Aimee Nicole is a chronically ill queer poet currently residing in Rhode Island. She holds a BFA in Creative Writing from Roger Williams University and has been published by the Red Booth Review, The Nonconformist, and Voice of Eve, among others. For fun, she enjoys attending roller derby bouts and trying desperately to win at drag bingo. You can find her on Instagram at @aimeenicole525.
The following work is Copyright © 2021, and owned by Aimee Nicole and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
The Elephant in the Room
I’m not sure our relationship is aging like a bottle of fine wine,
but I’m sure that we are aging.
We no longer fuck 13 times on a Saturday spent indoors,
and can make it two hours in the car without pulling over.
When you move those patriarchy lips I want to seal them with a gag.
Give me you undivided attention Sir so I can period this sentence.
These words are worth just as much as yours.
Though yes, it’s true, my currency loses in the exchange.
In this house, my power should be inarguable.
Spending the next 50 years defending my worth is nothing but a fool’s errand.
We can draw the divorce papers along with our marriage certificate.
Stash them in the junk drawer.
Forgotten, but always lying in wait.
Analogy you will understand
I’m committed to you like a home run.
Shoes caked with mud from last night’s storm.
I dirty all the bases with my mess.
The other team tries to tag me out,
but the wind blows up their tops
causing temporary blindness.
It’s typical, mother nature confusing game for will.
I leap into your arms on home plate
and you drop me in the dirt.
Bob McAfee is a retired software consultant who lives with his wife near Boston. For several years he made an hour train commute to and from Boston and developed the habit of writing in that fixed time. He continues to try to write two hours every day. His style is eclectic, but his goal is producing poems with both fierceness and a reluctant sense of optimism. He has written five books including “Natural Worlds” poems illustrated with color photographs 2021 available through bookbaby.com. Visit Bob on the web here: bobmcafee.com.
The following work is Copyright © 2021, and owned by Bob McAfee and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Response to “Telemachus” by Ocean Vuong
Like all good fathers, I drag my son from
the alley, pull him by the hands
toward the avenue, heels shaping furrows
the garbage rushes in to fill. Because the city
beyond the waterfront is no longer
where I left it. Because the public
garden is now a garden
of mire. I drop his body to see how far
he might sink. Do you know where I’ve been,
Son? But the answer is nothing. The answer
is the needle hanging from his arm, ripping
along the vein. He is so beautiful I can’t imagine
he could be my son, discovered
the way a texted message might arrive
on a father’s phone after years
without contact. I kiss
his forehead. Too late. I look him over,
to read him. The book
of his char-coated face. The face
not his but the one he will wear
to kiss his father good-night:
the way I cradle my child’s body
against my own and continue
the relentless work of dying.