From Virtual Conversations
She often wears my favorite oxford shirt
with nothing underneath. I cup her hips,
and with my teeth pull back a cotton skirt;
but when I lean to kiss unpainted lips,
my vision slips away. When I revert
to furtive fantasy, she smiles and quips
about the base of id. A phantom flirt,
she drafts a lusty lexicon that strips
away my middle-age. More gifted than
trite ingénues who sate the silver screen,
she conjures fascination with her pen,
and quickens pulse though oceans lie between
her faceless beauty and this graceless man
who cleaves to dreams of if and might have been. by Allen M. WeberAllen resides with his wife and three sons in Hampton , Virginia .
He has been published in The Toe Tree Journal and Loch Raven Review, and has been accepted for publication in the next issues of Virginia Libre Quarterly and Half Drunk Muse. Allen received an Internet Board Poetry Contest (IBPC) honorable mention in 2005, and achieved a third place showing in April, 2006.
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Confessions
I have an awful secret you should know,
she offered over brie and Zinfandel,
but I like you, and I'm worried I might blow
what we've got going for us if I tell.
He answered Not too likely, though his mind
began to teem with possibilities:
Bisexuality? That would be fine.
A former lover of another race?
She knew he wasn't prejudiced about
that kind of thing. So when, with trembling voice
and tear-bright eyes, she let her secret out,
he said, relieved, Come on, some silly choice
you made when young's no crime----we live and learn.
Relieved, until she said, Okay, your turn.
by Michael BattramMichael Battram lives in Indiana, works in Kentucky, and writes in his car. He is currently seeking a publisher for his chapbook Cathedral Jukebox and working on a verse novel. Recent or upcoming appearances include Abbey, Blue Unicorn, California Quarterly, and Birmingham Poetry Review.
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