Six Poems
by Sam Casey
Free of Need
Lady Liberty's sucking my clit before her shift
At the local titty bar for hungry men and coy women.
The first time I saw her Fourth of July routine
I was enamored as her red white and blue
Lingerie made its way to the floor. I held
Up my bill long enough to make it to
The back room where her curvy body looked
Capable of bearing children I tell myself I
Don't want and don't need. All I wanted to do
Was bury my non-existent sperm between
Those thick thighs, but I was on the customer side
So I stayed my thoughts of reproduction.
After she had removed my pants and I lay
Pussy-bare on the bed, she began to work
Her tongue for my time and my money.
For a moment, there was nothing else
I would rather have than the explosions
Of pleasure brought about by skilled labor.
While I'm dreaming of a me with pleasure
On tap, she's realizing I'm not fully present
And wiggles her finger into my asshole
To get my attention. I get it, she's in a rush
And here I am pursuing wish fulfillment.
I pull my lips apart and let her get me off
In record time. After the obligatory,
Halfhearted thanks, I'm alone in the room.
I paid for it, so I might as well use it.
I collect my things and my thoughts
Before heading out. Next to the titty bar
Is a dingy diner and above it is a dingy apartment.
I go first to the second, a place filled with
Shit I don't need and things I don't want,
Before secondly going to the first, my work
To pay for pleasure that doesn't last and bills
That don't matter. That discontent
Didn't fade, but the pleasure did, and while
Lady Liberty's still here, I can't seem to get off
On the hope that she can save me from here.
Weariness Worn
Lionel worked on the linotype.
Lily worked on the uniforms
For the men going to war.
Lily meet Lionel walking home
From a ten hour shift. She
Was tired, but Lionel seemed
Nice so they went for dinner.
Lonely Lionel's wife had died.
Little Lily never had time for
Love, or any of its cousins.
After dinner, Lionel walked
Lily to her door, pecked her
Cheek and promised to meet
Her in the same place the next
Night. Lily went to sleep tired,
But excited for the change.
The next night, Lionel had
Flowers for Lily and Lily wore
Her best dress for Lionel.
On the walk, they rehearsed
Their day. One of Lily's
Coworkers passed out again.
One of the machines at Lionel's
Work started malfunctioning.
There was rumor that someone
Lost a finger at Lily's work,
But she didn't see it. Lionel's
Boss was pleased when he
Caught an error in the print.
The wait for the table was
Blessedly short as Lionel
Had run out of things to talk
About while standing. He was
Much better talking while
Sitting. Lily was determining
That it would not be apropos
To discuss the issue with
The bathroom at work with
Her gentleman caller. They
Sat in a booth, thankfully, and
Lionel ordered them two Reuben
Sandwiches for dinner, which
Lily found a bit presumptuous,
But she didn't say anything.
Lionel talked much of his dead
Wife throughout dinner and after.
Lily listened, hoping unsuccessfully
To shift the conversation. When
Lionel pecked her cheek and
Promised to meet her again
The next day, she tried to form
The words no thank you, or
Don't bother, but instead she
Turned around and went into
Her apartment. She shared
This apartment with other
Seamstresses and she asked
Them how to get rid of a suitor,
But all they heard is that she
Had found someone, so they
Celebrated and congratulated,
Ignoring her quandary. As she
Lay in bed, dreading the next day
As well as the next night, Lily
Decided to not worry about it.
This was a mistake.
A few years later, Lily was Lionel's
Second wife with a baby in her arms,
Another on the way, and more to
Come, without doubt. She no longer
Worked long hours as a seamstress
Getting paid, but rather sewed all
The outfits for her husband and child,
Who would only demand more
Clothes as he got older. Lionel
Still talks often about his dead wife,
As well as about work and whatever
Else pops in his head, whereas Lily
Has grown rather quiet. She is not
Sure if she was more tired before
Or more tired now. She is not sure
Of much. She is just tired.
Vindictive Vines
Wine stained lips linger longer on the lovers'
Quarrel as night descends into dusk,
Clarity's tatters dissipating and Passion's poison
Seeping into blood once hot with unbridled love.
She favors a slight unseen, the love withheld,
The part of him he never gave. He, however,
Prefers the insult delivered in front of his peers,
For humiliation with an audience is unforgivable.
There is no patience on this night, only pain.
The hurt freely given and woefully received will bloom,
A bruise becoming larger than either body can carry.
It will take time, but the wounded two will turn
To one and one. As one, they will walk parallel paths,
Letting the bruise fade and lips linger on sweeter notes.
And someday they'll learn that wine stained lips
Let slip passions better left untold.
Ghosted
Oh how these ashes haunt me so
Returned to me in place of a man
I hadn't planned to see again
Now I'm the keeper of my exe
Respecting the dead with respect I lacked
For the man. He wished for peace with friends
From war, a combat cemetery,
A modern day Elysium,
A Cerberus of paperwork
Guarding entry to the tombs.
His ghost can't fill out forms and I am
Reminded how little I knew of the man
Who occupied a few of the years
I used to hold so precious. I'm stuck
With ashes haunting me, unable
To exorcise spectre of loss
A life lost young, a lost love soured,
A woman and her ashes lost from time,
Searching for a place where they can find peace.
Rediscovered
I held onto my memories as long as I could,
But the past fades as fast as it's made and I couldn't
Remember her when I saw her again surrounded by
Dusty dreams and broken ballads. Familiarity
Struck her eyes as clueless curiosity struck mine.
We talked and I preened, showing the best of me,
Unknowingly engaging in courtship of an old friend.
She seemed oblivious of my advances, discussing
Her successes and failures alike while I displayed
My peacock feathers. It wasn't until she asked if
I still talk to him that the illusion shattered and those
Memories that faded so softly returned so starkly,
The hours in youth talking, advising, pleading with him,
Eventually successfully as he abandoned the only life
He had for four walls under a doctor's care, her face
As we dropped him off, this woman who knew
Just as much about him as me even though we rarely
Interacted, her face sharing my regret, not for the actions,
But rather the necessity of it for someone so young.
Those memories took a lifetime to live and a lifetime
To lose, but returned in an instant leaving me
Stalled, chaotic emotions preventing processing
As she awaited my answer. She took my silence
With grace, waiting beyond what was polite
Before making her excuses and leaving me.
When the words finally did return, I was
Alone and I responded out loud: I miss him
But I lost him long ago and I can't return
Pragmatic Affection
When he came to my house across the beach and stone
He thought I was an angel and I thought him stick and bone.
I fed him what I found wandering through the wood
Swine cooked to perfection, an unconventional food
For him, at least. He regaled me with his tale, his mighty ship
Traversing across the seas, his armor pressing into my hip,
My hand stroking his locks as my sailor told me of giants,
Sirens, monsters, Gods, and then, the war, the battlements,
The blood, the boys killed by his design, the corpses defiled.
He wished to return to before, before his own shadow reviled
Him so. I told him to rest, for no monsters nor Gods could catch
Him here. For seven years I told him to heal, to rest, for no patch
Could cover the hole left from war and no return would erase
What was done. When he begged with agony in his face,
I knew I could not give him peace. I removed his imagined
Monsters, returned his crew, fixed his ship, gave him wind.
He sailed for the past, unable to be present, hoping for the future
Where he had never played the mortal game of death and war.
BIO: Sam Casey is a poet with another job that tries to distract from her experiencing life and putting it into words. Her poetry has been published by Quill Keepers Press, Eternal Haunted Summer and Hallaren, among other places. Her first poetry chapbook was published with Naked Cat Publishing and her second collection, Love Songs For My Ex, was published in January, 2025 with Wider Perspectives Publishing. She continued writing after her second collection, but has not maintained her social media sadly. She is excited to come back to the poetic word because writing is delightful, but sharing with others is orgasmic.