Three Poems by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

NICE GUYS MAKE LOUSY LOVERS

They’re too tender
and sweet
and gentle.
They handle you like they’re afraid
you’re going to break
and the sex is over before it even begins

it’s like they’re making love to a corpse
and I might as well be
for the way they’re fucking me

Put a little effort into it:
slap me
bite me
skin me with a knife
let me know I’m fucking alive
instead of boring me to death
with your slow and fragile ways…

and afterwards
they always considerately ask
“Was it good?”
but there are some questions that just don’t
deserve an answer

____________

GENERIC VENOM

I’m not what I appear to be–
I’m damaged goods

there’s no cotton at the top of this medicine bottle.
Somebody popped my lid and fucked with the contents
a long time ago
only I didn’t go down very well–
we didn’t gel
so they slapped a new label on me
and stuck me back on the shelf

they should have known
not to swallow me dry;
I’m not the type that goes down smooth

I tend to stick in one’s throat

It’s been awhile since someone rattled my vial
but I haven’t lost my potency yet.
I’ve only gotten stronger
and built up my resistance
since I’ve been back on the market–
these bright lights and shelf life
can’t hurt me any,
so if you’ve got the urge
and a strong constitution,
place me on your tongue
wash me down with a full glass of water
and I’ll slide down nice and easy;
hit the spot
heal the wound
cure
whatever ails you

____________

HARD TO GRAB

I don’t know what you want–

I screamed
I whispered
I lied
I cried
I confessed
I bitched
I raged
I smiled and praised
I pledged my soul
I spread my legs
I bled
I said I was a virgin
I told you I could take you
around the world and back
and still I could not please you….

I’m sorry, but perfection’s
an unattainable
bitch