Tuesday, April 3, 2012
a poem by ryan doyle may
Some Feast
I hope you realize everyone
around you has genitalia.
On the subway it’s your
hand avoiding my hand
it’s your hand, flinching
in the fluorescent puke
where my hand waits on
your hand to touch it
here
on the Q train, where
men line the isles like
teeth, loose and dumb
I’m like one of them
a cavity
working up the nerve
Ryan Doyle May’s work has appeared in Bombay Gin, Pax Americana, Esque, Supermachine and others. He is the author of the chapbook the Anatomy of Gray (Corresponding Society Press) and acted as the lead in the short film August, which was selected for the 2011 Cannes Film Festival. He has an MFA in Creative Writing from the New School and lives in Brooklyn.
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