Adam, the first man who didn’t love me
back, birthed from his rib a succession of
Casanovas, boys who played at being men,
denizens of a demi-world that
escaped accountability and blamed
faithlessness on the wrong place, the wrong time.
Gabriel thought he loved me, but I proved
him wrong in a fit of early-20’s drama.
Isaac made sure the
joke was never on him; he made his own best
kick-me signs.
Leo wasn’t a movie star; neither was
Michael, but they both had 50k followers each.
Nolan made money off his looks until the
old age of thirty-two, when his metabolism clicked off.
Peter didn’t make it to thirty-two, and neither did
Quentin, but for wildly different
reasons. Or, rather, intentions; one
sought to die, the other couldn’t fight hard enough
to live. All these men,
ushered in and out after offering
vows of various quality. How I
wanted them to cut the past like an
X-acto knife, so precise, so clean,
yet still leaving space to paste in a
zealot for my heart.
Joshua Barnes lives in Chicago with his husband. He is the author of the chapbook, Dressed for the Gods, from Ghost City Press. His poetry has otherwise appeared in &Change, Snowflake Magazine, Olney Magazine, Impossible Archetype, and Philadelphia Stories. When not writing, he can be found reading poetry, horror fiction, and comic books, and perfecting his handstands. He is on Instagram @jsb1800. His favorite revenge is Alexis Carrington’s dramatic appearance on the witness stand in the season 2 premiere of Dynasty to testify against her ex-husband, Blake Carrington.
