Lodestar Quarterly

Lodestar Quarterly
Figure reaching for a star Issue 17 • Spring 2006 • Poetry

Cuerpo de Hombre

Reginald Harris

The waiter's ass sways like a cypress
in the breeze as he carries lunch trays
up a flight of stairs. Reed slim and dark

rich loam from the Carolinas, he's not
my type anymore: I've outgrown
young men like that, filled out to appreciate
thickness, density, weight: men with legs

like tree trunks, ripe apple full biceps
a temptation waiting to be eaten,
chests like grassy savannahs, wild plains
overrun with slightly graying hair.
But sometimes a breeze from my youth comes up

envelops me with the scent of discarded skin,
the men I've left behind, hypnotizes with
a sway and gentle shake, leaves my mouth
watering, tongue babbling like a sylvan brook.

Reginald Harris' 10 Tongues: Poems was a finalist for the 2003 Lambda Literary Award and the ForeWord Book of the Year. Head of Tech Support for the Systems Department of the Enoch Pratt Free Library, he has received Individual Artist Awards for both poetry and fiction from the Maryland State Arts Council. His work has appeared in numerous venues, including Black Issues Book Review, Gargoyle, Poetry Midwest, Sou'wester, Black Silk, Bum Rush the Page, and Gathering Ground: A Reader Celebrating Cave Canem's First Decade. Born in Annapolis, Maryland, he lives with his partner in the Waverly neighborhood of Baltimore.

Go To: Issue 17 or Lodestar Quarterly home page