The Webcam Girl
Only the Webcam Girl
I can hear
her cry for help
in the curl of pubic hair
peeking out from under lace
taste the bile
of her loneliness
in the gentle curves
of her almost-adult breasts
It falls so far short of her erotic intent
my pity is lost on her
an ugly emotion
biting deep but passionless
stale, flat and cold
like ginger ale
left too long in the fridge
is fooled
as she reduces herself
to a series of blurred-edged images
as she reduces herself
to a series of blurred-edged images
I can hear
her cry for help
in the curl of pubic hair
peeking out from under lace
taste the bile
of her loneliness
in the gentle curves
of her almost-adult breasts
It falls so far short of her erotic intent
my pity is lost on her
an ugly emotion
biting deep but passionless
stale, flat and cold
like ginger ale
left too long in the fridge
Nothing I can say or do
would reach her
deleted responses unread
would not shake the foundations of ego
an earthquake avoided
in a dustcloud of
pink satin and denial
would reach her
deleted responses unread
would not shake the foundations of ego
an earthquake avoided
in a dustcloud of
pink satin and denial
The son of a high school teacher, Tom Diegoli grew up spending his summers in a tent in Conway, on the Saco River. Now he lives a bit farther north in Gorham with his daughter. What The Cat Dragged In is his latest self-published chapbook. Tom’s work has been published recently in The Color Wheel, and the anthology The 2008 Poets Guide to New Hampshire, and can also be found in the online magazine http://www.windinthetimothypress.com/.
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(c) 2008 Thomas J. Diegoli. Poem and photo are used here with the permission of the poet. All rights reserved.
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