Slow Boat to Pound Town
in the Time of COVID
We’ve been isolating for weeks.
It’s time to forget what you know about me.
I’m in the mood for gland-to-gland combat,
for bending you over an armchair
and showing you the fifty states,
for cattle-prodding your oyster ditch with my lap rocket.
I’ve no idea what that means,
but it’s got to feel a whole lot better
than a Lysol vaccine. Release the Kraken!
Blitzkrieg mit dem fleischgewehr—
Lightning war with a meat rifle.
Use me now, disinfect me later—
let me play with the box our kid came in
and forget about death for a while.
Why shouldn’t we have a pants-off dance-off?—
I’ve been knocked out by you since day 1,
and I know you’ve been eye-balling me.
What’s not to love?—
my thoughts are forbidden and exalted.
I can’t wait to put my ranch dressing
in your Hidden Valley. Put down your cosmo-rita,
let me rummage in your root cellar,
bow-chick-a-wow-wow. Let’s make a porno—
you can laugh at my fat, hairy ass,
and I at you, heels-to-Jesus.
Ecstasy trumps fear, trumps Trump,
so let’s do the horizontal greased-weasel tango.
Put some stank on my hang-down, baby.
I’ll get the camera, you get the handcuffs—
marital congress is in session.
Michael Steffen’s fourth poetry collection is forthcoming from Main Street Rag Press. His work has appeared in a variety of literary journals, including Poetry, Poet Lore, Potomac Review, Rhino and others. New work has recently appeared in Third Wednesday, Chiron Review and The Comstock Review. Michael is a graduate of the MFA writing program at Vermont College and currently lives in Buffalo, NY.