I know an old lady and other poems by Robert Beveridge

snake watches
spider
watches fly
another
hour
like this

---

Linda Blair, Superhero
For Carla Toptsidis

Enchanted is not the word
most would use for a first
encounter covered in blood,
pea soup, awful whipped-
cream vodka. But the way
you took my wife in your
arms, kissed her tender
and sensual, ignited more
than just my envy.
………………Years
later we see each other
only when fate intervenes
or at dissolute cocktail parties
resurrected from the grave
of 1976. Fondue suddenly
relevant again, at least
as body paint. And all
I ever do is the hello
and goodbye hugs, my lips
on your collarbone
and their lust to breathe
this constant desire into your veins
like the scent of spring plants:
fennel, scallion, kumquat, pea.

---

Masochism

stare
at her picture
again

she’s gone
it’s about time
you tossed
some roses
on her grave
moved on

there are other
petite
brunette
B-cup
heroin addicts
out there

---

Necromancer

In order to talk to the dead
I need only buy you a dime bag
and await the result

---

Refuse

A can
joins its brother
in the trench

and the meeting is over

---

The Sideways Glance

They look away
from each other
make a point of it
but to brush
against one another
makes them shiver
with the same desire
they feel
when they look
at an auto wreck

so at night
they go out
with lead pipes
under their coats
and drink beer
at gay bars

they haven’t been caught yet

Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Borrowed Solace, Dodging the Rain, and Twyckenham Notes, among others.