Poetry Night

So poetry night sucked.

The star wanted to discuss her genitalia.

I recited a poem about extinction.

She talked about masturbation and drugs and Jagermeister

And I about sea turtles and red tide—

Evidently hers and mine are different.

After twenty minutes she won

The audience loved the word clit

More than endangered species act

Or the fact that an orca pushes her dead calf

Around Victoria, her grieving palpable

And how we all worried for her survival

And still worry

Yet how did that fare against orgasms and inward involvement?

I sit alone, while the perseids shoot spheres of light across the sky

The lapping of the tidal river a reminder, a repetition

Of all that’s gone before

From which we have not learned.


Sascha Darlington


9 replies »

  1. Nicely expressed, Sascha, and the last four lines gorgeous. Apparently I’ll never be doing open poetry reading. There are so many audiences, so many tastes. It’s been a long time since I found anything shocking, but I don’t believe in shock value; there has to be something underneath. A lot more underneath. Crocodiles perhaps. (Sorry, I don’t know why I wrote that.)

    Liked by 1 person

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