Killing Her in an Upstairs Library Room

[Hayseed Huck]

I listen to her music,
and I feel the lyric,
banding expanding
inside her. Spaces
between her knees
open, carnal motion
wider.

A professor walking
to a room away, faint
we hear his talking.

My girl is breathing
whispering
fingers tilling
herself in soil,
unfolding spaces
between her words
coming slowing,
easy the filling.

And all the field
each beside and insiding
is lowing
swelling and melting
that hidden cup
holding wisdoms
of Athena speaking

lyrics for melodies,
mocking certainties
of knowledge, potations
of brutal knowledge.

Ago, when desire
bruising her lips
upstairs that once
in an abandoned house,
and here a perfect
and similar place.

Now the look of dread
comes sweet tearing
upon her face.

In his room mister professor
must be speaking, flocking
his sheep about him,
taking seating and roll
and on the chalkboard scroll
What the thunder said.

I feel my girl tightening
and glowing growing
glowing.

Her gasping is relieving
catches of passio
in my head.

So still she brings me music
and her hair
has strung hanging,
my hands searching
her throat, circling,
fingers digging, releasing
pressing,

and she nodding
allowing, pleading
asking, wanting,

desiring to please me
by her dying.

Her mouth spitting
draining,
panties piss soaking,
eyes rolling.
Death and she coming.

I hear a librarian
calling,

"Closing time."

HH

[blank|verse]

Well, this one stinks of testosterone.

This masculinity is present in both the form and content of this poem of fetish sex in a public place. The syntax contains many strings of verbs, as if the narrator has no time for such frivolous feminine nonsense like adverbs or adjectives, as the short lines spit out their largely mono- or disyllabics.

The opening of the poem is strange; the first stanza contains nursery rhyme-like internal rhymes, which almost suggest a spider is going to sit down beside her. This is mixed with some archaic syntax, particularly in the opening of the sixth stanza ('Ago') as if the narrator is determined to instantly mythologize the incident beyond the quotidian, something underlined by the reference to 'Athena'.

While the self-aggrandising content is straight from a men's changing / locker-room, or a boorish bar chat, it does leave such opinions open to charges of sexism and misogyny when expressed in the form of a poem.

And this is the main problem I have with it. It's hard not to objectify women to a certain extent when writing about sex from a man's perspective, but when it appears the woman is only there to perform for the man

desiring to please me
by her dying.
to the degree that she can be f—ed and then killed is highly objectionable, even in a work of fiction – especially when it appears she's literally disposable, for nothing more than a bit of chest-beating and bragging rights.

And as the narrator sets himself against the academia and the intellect (in the form of the 'professor' who 'must be speaking' – but the writer can't be bothered to check for certain because he's too busy having sex) it's very ironic that this tale is expressed in the form of a free verse poem.

[Hayseed Huck]

Well said.

Outstanding crit.

But remember, I (HH) am not the narrator.

I don't know who is speaking.

All you say about him is true.

He's out there ... somewhere, perhaps in
the English department at your local college.

Thanks,

HH