Nathaniel Rosenthalis

Don’t get deep? Um, basic dudes do point, come see dudes, come look, beauties, dontcha deliver or obliques. Eek! These angles. Some loose pornstars, for whom each cool future seems returnable, deep like autumns, circuits eccentric dudes defray, somehow ends. Quick questions are deemed cute pointing south; even chuckling dudes masticate. Doubtless sweet-n-low dudes “mmm,” dudes’ claims mounting dudes begging. “On” deletes under-viewed risks. Put-upon dudes customize each deep insider down muscles. Sounds like dudes air populations, doesn’t it, deep bangs dupe callouts signifying deep resting, hammered public. Ugh, reason blanks totals, dudes haunt dumb cycles, anticipate cuter comebacks. Look, each gets ends bloom, blow loud counts, ugh boys, deep moon.

I was alive, finally
I vented to a boyfriend
I was hoping the sun would bless me with

This one is for him

*

When I asked
he said he loved me
and I mattered

We turned out to be shadow-like, every
enough moment
a real TV

I can’t be episodic
anymore

*

His voice was an open door policy
out of red tape

It’s like I was multiple people in line, to be seen

*

Once, I was a beard

Now I’m thinking of being a look worn by hairy men
in a weather of putting on shirts

*

He looked sorry

Or was it only him in a shower stall
so wet and mature

in the water

And is it his hairy stomach
that shames me

Everything is the less serious to get

O what shame

            You minus words

            Your outline soaks me

Nathaniel Rosenthalis is the author of The Leniad (Broken Sleep Books, 2023). He lives in NYC, where he works as a teacher at NYU and Baruch College and an actor and singer in film and on stage.