Poetry
By
Aidan Baker ©1997
Pain
I feel your
skull as my fingers stroke your face.
The bones leap out at me, grinning
sadly,
and my feelings for you intensify.
Back To Her Hotel Room
so she takes him back to her hotel
room
holiday inn on the edge of china
town next
to the roar of the expressway
the noise is thick and the air is
damp
the sidewalk bulges with rain
orangey-red lights of the hotel
smeared neon
in the dark night
she met him in a bar on the main
drag
friend of a friend he's alone at a
corner table
when she comes in into the smoke
dim light
smell of beer music playing rain
dripping
from her hair he's reading a book
glass
half empty on the table black jeans
and
t-shirt smiles as she approaches
they fumble their greetings she
orders a drink
so she leads him back to her hotel
room
and he leads her when she forgets
the way
she's in town for a conference on
art history
supposed to lecture the day after
tomorrow
his voice sounds different from
when they spoke on
the phone in the sunny safety of
afternoon
she thinks maybe she likes him
maybe she's drunk maybe so is he
her legs feel shaky stomach a
little tight
the city sneaks up on her liquid in
the corner
of her eyes but when she looks
everything's fine yet
something seems to swim alongside
her
she holds his hand warm strong
thick
heavy fingers likes to feel his
shoulder brush
against hers
so she takes him up to her hotel
room
close in the elevator arms around
her waist
the lobby was empty and no one saw
them
so maybe this isn't happening and
she won't have to tell anyone about
it
she smiles to herself and he
wonders why
she won't answer so he kisses her
the hallway is red and silent the
key
thunderous in the lock and the door
swings
open to rain washed streetlight
through the window
and he's kissing her again before
she can
turn on the light his hands are
thorny
like trees and she feels hot lets
him
pluck at her clothes strip her
blouse
from her breasts skirt from her
hips
so she leads him to the bed and
lets him spread her legs crawl
into her like a worm and their
bodies harden around her centre
become machines and pretend
pleasure
maybe it's real and maybe she's
too drunk she represses an urge
to cry
she cries out when he puts his
hands around her neck
his fingers grip her cut off her
air
slice into her larynx distorts her
cry
to something inhuman something pure
pleasure pain and she can't stop
coming can't stop blanking out
can't
stop hating him and his stupid
fucking face