salamander flux

he who was wearing the two lobsters was
a drunk sexy big-dicked young man, and except
for the two lobsters and the string
that connected them, he was totally naked.
**
this was supposed to have a been a lobster dinner
for two.
at his place.
just him and his new boyfriend.
but,
his boyfriend had cancelled on him,
with only mysterious reasons for the
cancellation. vague and mysterious reasons.
**
so,
now,
the drunk sexy big-dicked young man was wearing
two lobsters and the strings
that held them in place, and nothing else.
after he'd got the news of the cancellation,
he'd thought it would be fun to tie the two lobsters around his waist.
hang one in front of his genitals, and hang the other
down the crack of his butt.
so he got some string, and, tying it to the claws,
he hung one lobster down across his genitals, and the
other lobster down across his buttcrack.
the heads of the lobsters were pointing up.
their tails were pointing down.
these lobsters had been cooked.
these lobsters were bright red.
these lobsters had cooled down enough
not to burn him, but they were still a bit warm.
**
so now he walked around in his apartment, all alone.
it was such a pretty evening,
the stars so bright,
the moon so splendid,
the feel of lobster shell
against
his own sweaty manflesh
so
well,
goddamn awful, in
the sexy way that sex can
be wonderfully awful, like love,
and hunger, and comfort, all
the things that he wanted,
but here he was, alone, with
just these two lobsters, and a bit
of string, and
the goofy look on his
face was almost
terror.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem was published in Chiron Review, Issue #119, Fall 2020.)