3 Poems
by Liam Strong
bedroom ad libs
after a cumshot i’m used
to not washing
my mouth
winter does often this
to me how the lack of humidity
calves a ventricle
into my throat
hard for breathing
i call my mother
the mornings after every
time is this too
a form of spite
or my only form
of love
he leaks a caltrop or two
onto my cheek
pours the rest to my knees
should i smile
like i’ve been dutiful
as if he has done a duty
i’ve learned my mother
doesn’t smile at God
but rather his
presence over the phone her mouth
grates the receiver
like churning a marble
in the hollow of a tooth
my confetti & flowers crinkle
on the flannel sheet he flops
like a deer shot that won’t run
his dues given
i tell him to call his mother too
she’s dead
call her anyway
any way you can
my grandmother still
has a facebook
& she’s been gone four years
the bed doesn’t question prayer
when i’ve bent beside it
perhaps its flatness of faith
is where my mother has lost
all her curvature all bone & fibromyalgia
the first time i saw her smoke
i thought she spewed cum
into the breeze
i could have been wrong but
from behind all i see
is prayer at an altar
that too will eventually disperse
Thomas Nagel teaches me new ways to masturbate
after Sage Agee
beware! this
is a warning.
David Foster Wallace wants to tell you
about fatalism before you leave. the end
table a mop of kirigami. your phone wriggles
against your thigh.
“im headed out be there in 20,” your boo texts.
“aight,” you type, like a pop of bubblegum.
getting out of bed
is as lazy as charcoal, embers cozy
in their ash. the etymology of
a date suggests something happened or will
happen. you are given
to a messenger. maybe he’ll carry
you to bed later. if you pray
for it in the next 19 minutes. your
clothes bedraggled like limp
corpses on the head jamb. if
you give even a fractal of effort
he can finish
the rest.
preface to a story that is only an ending
his eyes flannel & moose. his torso
a snowplow. his biceps
an accountability. his
shins paprika bricks.
his bricks full
of mouth. his mouth
a yardbird or lawnbird.
his beard an american
dream. his cock a—
Liam Strong (they/them) is a queer neurodivergent cripple punk writer who has earned their BA in writing from University of Wisconsin-Superior. They are the author of the chapbook Everyone's Left the Hometown Show (Bottlecap Press, 2023). You can find their poetry and essays in Vagabond City and new words {press}, among several others. They are most likely gardening and listening to Bitter Truth somewhere in Northern Michigan. Find them on Instagram/Twitter: @beanbie666.