Francis Bennion - Poetry - Poemotions - A Man's Desire for a Boy

That's good enough for me, if you think what you write is true:
I trust you not to deceive me, not to betray me, not to violate
this smooth white skin (I haven't had it long).

I really trust you, feel safe with you,
you share my future, share my hopes, and never ever touch me.
Never once have you touched even my hair.

I'm glad of that, it brings security.
I need to trust you, need to feel
inviolate.

And you - why you respect that need.
All praise to you, because I sense, behind your civil eyes
a devil that wants to pounce, even

with wild and savage paws
strengthened with steel-hard claws, and powerful thrusts,
put faint scratches on my new white skin.

Or not so faint, deep, disembowelling
channels, instantly engorged with blood -
slashing across my boyish entrails.

That's just a nightmare, childish and unreal.
I dismiss it, and it quickly goes,
leaving me in your smooth, mature embrace.

Start of page 234 in the book

No physical embrace of course, that wouldn't do;
no, just the support your years can give
as, unmoved, mature, balanced, well-secured,

you look into my velvet eyes, obscured a bit
by this shock of tumbling, corn-coloured hair,
and coolly smile, and give me all your strength:

While I, thank God, need to give nothing back.

Start of page 235 in the book

Reproach from the Young One

I might have loved you:
loved at least your mind
(anything but thick).

I did try to love you
that time we intertwined
(but your waist was thick).

I will not be waisted -

if you don't mind.

Start of page 236 in the book

Rough Trade

The little and fat man
wheezily climbs out of his shabby mac.
Wobbling his belly
he scatters dandruff from his thinning hair.
Adjusting his glare -
extending yellow-brown fingers,
dribbling from his loose wet mouth:
he squeals dismay at our news.

We will give you our time if you pay us,
give you our bodies too.
None of our soul will we give though -
it's not for the likes of you.

The little and fat man
feebly emits his plea.
Be kind to the one who will pay you,
be honest - and earn your fee.
Souls come cheaper than cheap
but if yours is dear I will pay.
Dribbling more from his loose mouth
he squeals at the boys' reply.

We will give you our time if you pay us,
give you our bodies too.
None of our soul will we give though -
it's not for the likes of you.

Start of page 237 in the book

The little and fat man
packs up and slinks away.
His trading standards are rigid:
compromise is not comprised
inside the shabby mac.
If money won't buy it nothing can
he shrieks, stopping his ears,
as we call with our hoarse young voices:

We will give you our time if you pay us
give you our bodies too.
None of our soul will we give though
it's lost on the likes of you.