Dessert
by Greg Bernard
Down my angry throat, I swallow much
of me-acid taste of silence,
the copper film of my cowardice.
Distended, I complete this gross repast
and offer myself, a tart-
a tongued and truffled she-treat.
I'm cognac warm against the glass,
I'm tucked deep within my gaff, seams rising like erections.
Cavities. Depravities. Men draw near.
I savor the decadent thrust of hips,
nipple twists, and crepe sheets pressing back- my tears
hot and sweet as melting sorbet.
They stutter, then sputter, withdrawal.
My grace fallen, I swallow all.
Greg Bernard teaches high school English. His work has appeared in Voices Magazine, Open Wide, Dragonfly Spirit, Talking Stick, Red Weather, Fire Ring Voices, Whitetail Fanatic, Minnesota Monthly, Miller's Pond, Poetry Motel, Megaera, Wisconsin Review, Defenestration, Lake Country Journal, Front Street Review, Prism Quarterly, and Flashquake, as well as in the anthologies Poetry for Students and the best-selling Chicken Soup for the Golfer's Soul. In addition, he won Minnesota Monthly's 17th annual Tamarack Award for short fiction in 2002 and is the author of the novel Alpha Summer.