Poem of the Month: ‘Marc Antony’ by Ruth Christopher

This piece is part of our ongoing series 'Poem of the Month'. Every month, the Writer's Edit team selects their favourite submission and provides detailed feedback to the author.

You can read more about Ruth's inspirations and literary influences in our exclusive interview.

'Marc Antony' by Ruth Christopher

it was late and the day had been long and hot.

 

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you asked if you could sit at my table as we drank our coffees in a still crowded Starbucks and I said yes and laughed even when you weren’t funny and flirted with my eyelids the way leading ladies do in the movies at your round mirthful face lined with a few too many years to still reasonably be in college studying English but you knew about Eliot and Ovid so I walked across the street and drank ambivalent beers while every man in the pool hall wished he was you until a cheap hotel sounded like a very good idea and suddenly I was ripping your working class clothes off…

 

your body was heavy on mine so in the morning I filled my cigarette carton with nugs you thought you’d hidden carefully in your tired old backpack filled with Norton’s anthology and messy spiral notebooks while you stepped outside to smoke a borrowed cigarette and then I made you brave the pharmacy alone because society’s eyes are less harsh on Bacchic men who’ve never had a prime than pretty girls who are too tired to drive home and can’t afford hotels themselves.

 

'you know, it’s bad manners to try to shove your dong in someone’s ass without asking them first.'

'sorry.'

 

I promised faithfully I’d call you as I kissed you goodbye and then deleted your number as I washed your taste from my mouth with another coffee and lit a blunt as I started for home.

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