Secretly Ironic

The Reproductive Habits of Cimex

Traumatic insemination
is exactly what it sounds like.
There’s no metaphor in this:
A hypodermic organ, a carapace,
and semen in the blood.

The parasite is not a metonym
for shame, nor horror;
There is no sign to read in filth,
in bloodstained sheets
and scarlet welts.

It is, and that is all.

Workaday
The mop-up man at the arcade puts on his gloves
refreshes the supply of concentrated soap
and wipes away the hour’s humiliating stains,
scant seconds of secret lonely joy
and half-burnt cigarettes.
He keeps his head down.
Nobody he wants to see is here.

The banker’s agent changes locks
on the last failure of the day.
The bin outside replete,
he signs his name
and shuts the door.
He keeps his head down.
Nobody he wants to see is here.

Closing time, the bar gone still
a whole long night of smiles
reduced to aching joints and broken glass.
The regulars are not the barkeep’s friends.
They’ll learn it soon enough if they get sober.
He keeps his head down.
Nobody he wants to see is here.

5 O’Clock Somewhere
Open up a bottle, climb inside
and let the world recede,
and make myself an empty husk
until tomorrow’s new decline.

The phrase itself is grimed and chewed beyond recognition
until you tie an animal to your belt with a three foot rope
and walk around all day hunched over saying
come on, come on, come on, yes!
Reinforce the instinct ‘til the wiring’s set:
When she obeys, reward,
then imagine yourself loved.

I gave this girl a human name, and call it softly;
Ape the role, though I’m no father.
This ersatz child diverts
my nurture to her needs,
will never care for me in frailty
or carry on my name.
Commensal more than parasite,
she shares the prey
she captures with her infant paws:
The smiles of disarmed passers-by
which I imagine are for me.

Let’s be clear: I am no father,
But I can’t deny I play the part.
I gave this girl a human name and call to her
falsetto: “Come to daddy.”
And, god help me, I’ve bought her tiny sweaters.
I’ve knelt for her in the dark
in the rain in the parking lot
behind abandoned restaurants.

She diverts my instincts to her needs,
this ersatz child, this changeling, who will never
care for me in frailty, nor carry on my family name.

But no mere parasite, she shares the prey
she captures with her infant paws:
the disarmed smiles of passers-by
which I imagine are for me.

I am no father, but won’t deny paternity
I play the part, have knelt for her
in the dark in the rain in the parking lot
of an abandoned restaurant.

This cuckoo’s hatchling in my human nest
diverts my instincts to her needs,
cannot fulfill the full imperative of life.

No mere parasite, she shares the prey
she captures with her infant paws:
the disarmed smiles of passers-by
which I imagine are for me.

I am no father, but can’t deny paternity implied:
I’ve played the part, have knelt for her in the dark
in the rain in the parking lot of an abandoned restaurant,
have fed and bathed and clothed her.
This cuckoo’s hatchling in my human nest
who diverts my instincts to her needs
cannot fulfill the full imperative of life,
but still, commensal, shares the prey
she captures with her infant paws:
the disarmed smiles of passers-by
which I imagine are for me.