O\u27Connor, Joseph

English

SUNY Geneseo KnightScholar (State University of New York)

Gandy Dancer ArchivesVolume 2 | Issue 2 Article 145-1-2014I Gave My Uncle Seashells for Ashtrays // Take aLover Who Looks at You Like Maybe You areMagicJoseph O'ConnorSUNY GeneseoFollow this and additional works at: https://knightscholar.geneseo.edu/gandy-dancerPart of the Poetry CommonsThis Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by KnightScholar. It has been accepted for inclusion in Gandy Dancer Archives by an authorizededitor of KnightScholar. For more information, please contact KnightScholar@geneseo.edu.Recommended CitationO'Connor, Joseph (2014) "I Gave My Uncle Seashells for Ashtrays // Take a Lover Who Looks at You Like Maybe You are Magic,"Gandy Dancer Archives: Vol. 2 : Iss. 2 , Article 14.Available at: https://knightscholar.geneseo.edu/gandy-dancer/vol2/iss2/1469 JOSEPH O’CONNOR I Gave My Uncle Seashells for AshtraysEveryone has one gay uncle who has been neatly tuckedaway.Mine took me out for lobster— smoothed a white cloth napkin across my thighs,taught me how to snap my wrists so the whole claw fell clean into my lap. How to clench nutcrackers until my knuckles burnedbright as Orion’s belt. I pucker a thin leg as he fingers his cigarette. Blow fake smoke. How to get to the good meat: split the tail open by cracking sideways. One day you will realize you are differentlike me. The words spread as butter. A gulp of bread at the bottom of my throat: my make-believe Adam’s apple stoppering my speech. He orders my first drink: Shirley temple, extra cherries. I suck it downwithout thinking. Don’t let Uncle Johnny take you to the bathroom. I cross my legs and squirmlike the bottom-feeders orgying in the restaurant tank—he let me choose my own 70red heart, to be boiled alive in clear heat, to be cannibalized by no one other than myself.71JOSEPH O’CONNORTake a Lover Who Looks at You Like Maybe You are Magic —Marty McConnell We fucked like alchemiststeasing taboos underneath the planets. Experimentation between two boys in a field testing warheads—a dipping sun transmutes their curiosity: makeshift sundials pointing no where in particular. He kissedmy mouths, kissed the inside of my forearm. Doctors stick me intravenous (he knows). Still searching for tonsils floating in far-off pickle jars. Watch muscles convexlike when he carries in groceries. Infinity is moon-crescent fingernails burning figure-eights into my breast—he brands my obsession. Like magicicada, we sleep seventeen years in darkness. Wake, 72sing brazen through the night. Then fuck. Then die.Our research hangs in the air, like spiders crafting invisible silver in the night. Pluck a shiny pube from his teeth and blow,like dandelion seeds, like birthday candles.Years of looking for the needle in my stack. And then you torch it all to kingdom come, leaving nothing but a glowing metal slice. It flies towards your magnetism.

I Gave My Uncle Seashells for Ashtrays // Take a Lover Who Looks at You Like Maybe You are Magic

https://knightscholar.geneseo.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1075&context=gandy-dancer

I Gave My Uncle Seashells for Ashtrays // Take a Lover Who Looks at You Like Maybe You are Magic

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SUNY Geneseo KnightScholar (State University of New York)