ODE Poem: Ode to the Clock Ring, by Cody Vesley

This week, I learned how to measure myself for a cock
ring. It only takes a piece of string and pen. Memory
of fractions comes rusty, finding a common denominator
is almost as hard as finding a lover. If my friends asked
me to teach them, I’d let them drop trou, wrap soft
teal yarn behind scrotum and over the base of their
member, mark a line like a parent to a door frame, teach
them to wear our shame like a crown. I do this, because
I love them. I love them in the dark room harnessed
and jockstrapped. I love them when they’re fucking
bottoms off Grindr. I love them when I pray to God,
and there’s a joke hidden here about kneeling, but I’ve
floated my face to VHS cleaner like birthday candles
enough to know you are a wish come true my sister,
with your estranged parents and disbelief in God,
so when I say I pray for you I mean, give me your
shame, and I will stake wax letters that spell out faggot
atop strawberry cake, laugh in the face of what and
who has tried killing us, and maybe we live fast,
because we never expected to be here this long,
like the circle of life is holding back your blood
long enough to stand up and shoot.

Author: poetryfest

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