Eagle-winged cock on my phone. I joined
the apps not earlier than I was allowed to,
but earlier than I should have. A man, twice
of me – in age, in size, in audacity – stretches
a talon through the screen: Sweet boy.
Soft skin. Baby calf. Milk trough. Can I
touch? Can I smell? Can I taste? Are you
really only 100 lbs? That’s so hot.
Hellenic ideal: men whose beards could scrape
the wool from a lamb’s back, wanting to plaster
me upon the hard bed-frame scene circling
an urn. Terra cotta raptor of the Father-God.
Hands, a fire on my thigh on the subway. Hands,
cracking open the hide on the small of my back
in the gay bar. Hands, flying from the messages.
Hands, twine around the waist, across the mouth.
Hands, a god lifting me to a mountain, casting me
in bronze to be a boy until bled dry. To be a stain
of nectar on a chin. To be a cup overflowing:
a cold, metal well from which to drink.
Patrick Roche is a queer poet, mental health advocate, and Carly Rae Jepsen enthusiast. He is the author of A Socially Acceptable Breakdown (Button Poetry, 2021), which was named a Finalist for the Eric Hoffer Award. His work has appeared on UpWorthy, Buzzfeed, The Huffington Post, BroadwayWorld, FreezeRay Press, and his mom’s fridge. He currently lives with his husband and their dog in Astoria, NY.