10-04-2022
Benjamin Garcia​
​
ODE TO THE PITCHER PLANT
In the Victorian language of fans // como se dice //come hither
I am the three-headed // head giver // Heather Heather and Heather
be my Veronica Sawyer // but you’ll have to dye // your virgin hair
let me make you over // a quien le importa if they say // she’s a man-
eater // they’re not wrong about the latter // I expect a booty call later
from my whereforeartthou Romeo // come use my trellis as a ladder // I am
pansexual // with omnivore vigor make you breakfast // the morning after
see me wavering // waving my spade impatiently // for any lad or lass
come shake that ass // booty-bump-a-bump // let me whet your appetite
with my siren waters // seamen // which is what a man’s come is called
I want a man // that comes when called // I want to have a better name
for when women climax // meanwhile my secret is vaginal // secretions
gender fluids and fluid genders // see how come can mean // collapse
of distance between objects // to the point of overlap // until two are one
as is the case with come // love // in Spanish those four letters mean come eat
they fold into each other // like a handfan // come you’re almost skin and bones
and meat and legs and wings and // carapace // cara mia come at your own pace
but come // down my throat follow your gut to my gut // come Narcissus come
to your sissy prissy boipussy pitcher // I’ll be your catcher too // the game is lost
my fans are in the stands // doing the wave they’re cheering you on // come on
roll your love into a ball // if we had but world enough and time // I would woo you
to kingdom come // but life’s a stuff will not endure // so gift me your endurance
damelo duro papi // forgo coquetry’s etiquette // I’ve got your ticket down here
where bodies float // traverse the manhole cover // draw the curtain and do
mind the man behind // I’m flashing my fan as hard as I can // ready for my close up
I am the Victor with a capital V // thank you for your participation here’s // a trophy
ANTI-ODE TO THE MAN-O-WAR
in the language of hormones // I want to say // I’m sorry
that you don’t know // the gulf between the words // venom
and poison // between // the father the son & the holy
crap I just got stung // let me explain myself // enzymes
are my hello // goodbye // I’ve been told I have a terminal case
of resting bitch face // the facts // there is a difference between
venom & poison // it’s all about who // is doing what to whom
bite me // and it’s called a poison // venom when I bite back
this is what wars have been // fought over // in the holy name of
whose key is unlocking // whose keyhole // another way to think
of them is venoms // are the tops // they’re active and push in
while poisons are the bottoms // the tubers the roots // the locks
of hemlock haired // fuck boys // the cads & the rent-to-owns
you know how I know // you’re a poison // it’s cause you’re lazy
daisy & docile // I lift my sail a while // and why not be
the Portuguese // armored war ship // that’s my namesake
I am small & still // I contain multitudes // I wonder if Whitman
might have meant // dudes he knew // husked & hulled & filled
his debonair // crowned with windswept hair so // devil-may-care
unlikely though it may seem // I’m not the jealous // kind of fish
even if I may not be // kind to you // pain’s the only way I know
flesh from friend // you know a relationship is extra // toxic when
one dolt is left stunned // defenselessly doting // no thanks I am
like the Iberian newt // that would rather push his ribs // through
his own skin // to deliver the venom than // let a man touch me
that’s really fucked // but I don’t know any other joke // except
how does one hug // a box jellyfish // the punchline is you don’t
I bet you didn’t // think this was love // poetry when it started
it isn’t // except I don’t know any other way // to love or to be
loved but for this // I want to be done with you & you // with me
do what the men of war do // to the ripped torso // of the surfer
I won’t let you suffer // alone & not for long // I want to do
with you what I’ve been told // human urine // does to the fists
of pink hydrangeas // in the spring // before the blue blooming
​
ODE TO THE TOUCH-ME-NOT
in the language of consent // I revoke // in the affirmative
but I’ll tender for you an enthusiastic // get bent // my body
isn’t up for debate // so you can go // shave your palms now
drop dead // bitch I might // take a page from female dragonflies
that fall on their backs // spread their legs // and wait for the man
to go the fuck away // but with my luck // he’d be a necrophiliac
creeps will touch you // and touch you // and touch you
and then // they’ll claim that it’s not true // movement
just your common // hydropump action // an easy trick
turgid and ready // and even came // loose with the swipe of a finger
they’ll call you beautiful // they’ll call you and call you // until
you relent or rebuff // their advances // claim they climbed into your pants
regardless // call you // coy cloister closet case cunt my mistake
if ever I made any // was not being carnivorous enough // nontoxic
or maybe not remaining my own // flowering clusterfuck // self-pollination
as self-suck // this is a man’s true fear // to be not needed
they’ll swing your head // by your hair // and call it snakes
the blood that drops // a new genus // of undiscovered poppies
named for some cis het white // halfwit // who would and should have died
without pity from so-called savages // who had their own name for this // rape
so they call me // a touch-me-not // dormilona when I’m wide awake
holgazana // can you believe it // when I’m paying his goddamn light bill
it was a man // of course it was a man // who named forget-me-nots
forget-me-nots // who can remember his pathetic name now // not me
-from THROWN IN THE THROAT (Milkweed, 2022, Finalist for the 2022 Kate Tufts Discovery Award), selected by Fall 2022 Guest Editor, Michael Walsh
​
Benjamin Garcia’s first collection, THROWN IN THE THROAT, won the National Poetry Series and the Eugene Paul Nassar Poetry Prize, in addition to being a finalist for the Kate Tufts Discovery Award. He works as a sexual health and harm reduction educator in New York’s Finger Lakes region, where he received the Jill Gonzalez Health Educator Award recognizing contributions to HIV treatment and prevention. A CantoMundo and Lambda Literary fellow, he serves as core faculty at Alma College’s low-residency MFA program. His poems and essays have recently appeared or are forthcoming in: AGNI, American Poetry Review, Kenyon Review, and New England Review. His video poem “Ode to the Peacok” is available for viewing at the Broad Museum’s website as part of El Poder de la Poesia: Latinx Voices in Response to HIV/AIDS.