[poem] Darkest Civility (help appreciated)

[JetPlane]

An older poem, completely re-done for my poetry class. We're supposed to use 2 distinct voices in a poem or use quotes from other authors. I did both. The quotes, "I'm still learning," "What spirit...?," "Lord...," and "The true work..." are from Michelangelo.

If you could be so kind to help:
a.) How do you see the gender of the narrator and the nameless 'you'? Does the gender-line seem clear-cut?
b.) Does the tone seem homoerotic or entirely heterosexual?

---


The sharpness of the moment
was dry.

I collected my flesh, grabbed up
the folds, the shattered vertebrae,
your tinkered cuff links
giggled like ruffled babies against
the table top, grasping up
with wormy fingers,
Clasp.

My joy of life closed, the door
chuckled and my heart fell to the floor,
a waterfall of spotted disdain,
grainy scars and shiny pale lines,
my hips shifted,
my thighs loosened;

He ceded and resigned.

In the patchy light,
your lips closed around a cigarette,
holding it between your lips
as you pulled up your pants.
"What's your name?"
"Quinton."
“How did you like it?”
“I’m still learning.”

You tied your shoelaces.

"What spirit is so empty and blind,
that it cannot recognize the fact
that the foot is more noble than the shoe,
and skin more beautiful
than the garment with which it is clothed?"
You were a Michelangelo.
You should be balding and slouched,
your thinning hair curling about your ears,
your eyes morose,
dressed in hare tunics;
blooming whip welts,
the dirtied kisses of brute lips,
the feel of calloused hands
and dirty fingernails on your thighs,
"Lord, grant that I may always desire
more than I can accomplish."

“I’m finished,” he whispered.
You were so shallow.
You wanted your lovers easy.
Inappropriately, you wrapped your fingers
around my hip, smiling willfully
at the room’s other occupant,
the hardness distracted
you, “are you turned on, my love?”
Cold and impersonal, the act was lost
among the get-up. You, in your high-heels
and petty wishes.

The bellboy’s table hopped along the corners,
the soft spoons and gentle jelly jars
tinkling against the glass plates,
and will you dance with him,
long after I’m gone?
Place your arm across his shoulders,
bring his cheek against your own,
and mimic the pattern of love and loss
in the waltz of our end?

Will he remember to leave rose petals
in the pocket of your robe?
How ever will he remember that
you like cream and sugar in your tea
and your napkin folded to the left?
Will he buy you a cheap cigarette case
and kiss you to make up for it?

Gently now.

Your lips were full of nonsense tonight,
“Paint yourself for me,” lipstick
rouge and foundation spidery eyelashes
powder white as death
a move of a hand--
you liked--
flesh warm to your touch the bruises
a myriad of your controls and cravings
for the darker side
of finest civility.

“The true work of art
is but

a shadow

of the
divine perfection.”

“Go ahead and rape me.”

[Ancient History]

Nice. There are a few parts where you may like to re-arrange a few of the words and phrases to bring out your meaning better, but that's just my personal preference speaking.

[DarkMage]

I think that the hetor-homo interpation would be dependent on the person reading it. I can see where it could be percived as both.

[Ancient History]

I'd argue that the specific gender is up to the reader; the poem basically appeals to the...I don't want to say literal and perceived degradation and effects of the carnal act, but I'm failling to find the correct words here and "failed afterglow" doesn't cut it...and the structuring is such that either is possible.

The only part that could explicitly imply homosexuality would be "Quinton" (depending who the speaker is, which is a tad unclear); while the implicit part would be "You were a Michelangelo." Which might just be me and my concept of great homosexual Italians.