At The Bar
by Paul Cordell
September 1966 • Vol. 1 No. 12
Originally published in the September 1966 issue of Tangents
p. 7
He knows he’s handsome and we agree
If his hair were any longer he would be Hebraic
And resistless as Charlton Heston
Playing a loin cloth genius, the hairy pelt of his chest
Where a hand sometimes alights and is lost
And whiskered legs that fans briskly touch
Exciting nerves that we rarely mention.
He knows he should be speechless,
Listening while we sing his praises,
Trying to find a way of admiring the backs of his knees
Or the dimple revealed when he lifts his lips
Not to smile or laugh, but to cast a light
On the room’s dusky corners, or just to look away
From the boy who’s indifferent to his blazing features.
He knows he is our legend
But he can’t believe the long lines of fate unfolding,
Already unfolding his mirrored lovers,
And he’s restless as though around his deepset navel
A fire or glow had started
Which his two hands refuse to put out,
And which cannot be quenched while his heart is still beating.
—Paul Cordell
©1966, 2018 by The Tangent Group. All rights reserved.
