A Poem by Tom Hatch

Perfume

I live in a bottle

My religion is escapism 

The stopper removed scent unseen

Dabbed or sprayed on the likes of aphrodisiac's arms

Finding my way to a young man

He can see but is blind to this

Flirting without a skirt or low

Cut blouse of cleavage 

I flank around his neck

A river flowing unlike a water fall

Unlike a sigh heard then gone

Find his ear silent all to myself

Enter my fragrance dance 

He takes the bait a fish ready

To be netted still fighting an uncertain

Death howls tormented enigmas curse

Trapped entering Saks Fifth Ave

Or Bergdorf Goodman's damn front door

In the isle of paid lady's to release and tease 

Around and for thousands of years silent splash

Reaching resting into young jackals pores 

 

 

 

Tom Hatch paid his dues in the SoHo art scene way back when. He was awarded two NEA grants for sculpture back then. And taught at various colleges and universities in the NYC metro area in art (including Princeton and U of Penn. in Philly). He is a regular at The Camel Saloon and BoySlut. He had recently published at The Mind[less] Muse, Jellyfish Whispers, Napalm and Novocain and Dead Snakes among others. He lives in CT with a few farms up and down the road works in Manhattan. His train ride to and from NYC is his solace, study and den where it all begins and ends.