Tuesday, December 28, 2010

My Horror History

Here's a poem that didn't make the final cut for Pop-Up Book of Death, but I am fond of it nonetheless. I'm glad I can share it with you here:

My Horror History

My fascination with horror gains momentum
while puberty accelerates--
the 9th grade
a miserable year for queer teenager anxiety
lust at
the sight of boys wearing silky red track shorts
tank top uniforms
a lust quagmire that
I attempt to sprint through

on hot afternoons the boys run without their shirts
I try to capture mind’s eye photographs
which blur in the sweat and sun
of my memory

I read Poe's "Tell-Tale Heart" for the very first time in Ms. Shoemaker's English class. Poe's narrator cannot contain his guilt; he cries out--he committed the foul deed. The torturous beating heart compels him, and I feel a need building within me--to cry out, to release, to confess the desire for boys in running shorts as I run the 100-yard-dash

and I cross the finish line
pulse percussion thumping
and pounding
beneath the floorboards of my brain