ROBERT BEVERIDGE - POEMS

 
Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Chiron Review, Pink Litter, and The Literateur, among others.

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                                Come Hold the Moon
 
​
“come hold the moon,” she whispers,
offers it to me nestled
between small, upturned breasts.
Harvest moon's tawny orange
of your skin compares
to witch's moon of the snowdrift
behind us. It's pale, its beauty
pales between you
 
I cup the moon in one hand
it is soft, smooth,
lovely as I kiss it
arouse you

                                            Duke
 
​
Dante was plagued
by demons. This
is true. My Geryon,
however, is the way
you stay with me
even in absence;
I can hear tenor echoes
of smoke in the air,
but cannot taste
the salt of your skin.

​                                      Naked
 
                        I
 
Your body
under me last night
felt more solid
than anything I've felt
since the last time
my car got hit
 
                        II
 
You
can't be naked
in the light
so I have to see you
when you wrap
your body around me
and we drift
off to sleep

​                                 Roger's Funeral
 
We waited for the priest
to start in on the whole
ashes and dust thing.
Instead, he did tricks
with zinc pennies.