the young-fag stage:
(or)
what we learn from wanking off

his parents are both gone for
the afternoon and now he's
wanking off, he's 16 and not yet sure of
his faghood and he's just
started doing it in front of mirrors
today when he cums
he makes a growling sound
in the back of his throat
it is a sound he has not
heard himself make before
he is surprised, and he grins
beautifully, his eyes glassy
with pleasure

there is sweat on his little
toe

his lips are dry

his tongue tastes like
dust

the mirrors on either side of
him whisper gently
you're the best-looking boy in
the world  god yes  you're the
best-looking boy in the world
let's do it again
let's do it again and
oh my yes let's do this again

he does it again and is pleased
with the results he cleans
up and gets dressed and the phone rings
it is
his best friend tom
on the telephone, tom is very good-looking
tom says "hey, what's up"

he suddenly wants to tell tom
every single detail
but instead he says "oh not much" and
then he just stands there by the
phone listening to tom and twirling the cord and
feeling lonelier
than he's ever felt in his
whole goddamn life.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Museum Quality Orgasm, published by Future Tense Books in 1996. The poem was first published in Chiron Review, Issue #56, Winter 1998.)