When you’re ready for a blowjob let me know, I say, parting ways at the late night subway station——you drunkenly down the stairs to the humid Hells of South Ferry and your ever immortal beloved to Bowling Green and its fake massacre. It’s been a year since I hung that perfect monster down my patron saint’s throat——no gag reflex from years of alcohol’s burn——in the movie theater at Seaport then later that night at the spy lounge on the roof after a bottle or two of something better than champagne. There was the break-up, the hateful social media posts, the threats of firearms, but really we were both too indolent to cross the river to beat the shit out of each other. But there was always that stunning cock, that instrument of destruction with the flavor of God’s redemption on my tongue.
Montgomery Maxton is an American street photographer, writer, and lens-based artist in New York City. His fourth collection of poetry, Every Ghost Dwells A Place to Haunt, and his short story, Panthère, are both forthcoming from Moon Ice Press. He is currently working on a vampire novella as well as a play. His favorite revenge story is the film 9 to 5.
