Recent Work By Christopher Wood

Two Poems

By Christopher Wood

Poetry

 

 

[Untitled]

 

Tonight I was born Chrix at Taco

Bell. Two shredded chicken soft tacos

and a bean burrito. Burritos are tacos.

I think about the young man on the

hookup app and how this is such a

specific early time after the orgy.

The orgy is technology. After the orgy,

predicates. I tried to upsell the hookup,

a movie. He sent me three more pictures

with vastly different haircuts. What will

I get? He says he’s interested, all week.

But he only has time to stop by when

I’m not around. I don’t tell him I’m in

full suspense, suspension of belief. I get

the last time he logged in by the app — 

a matter of hours. He gets mine. I’m

mostly only checking his movement cross

boroughs. I want more than naked late

afternoon lunch. Hoop Dreams, A Chorus

Line, Calendar Boy, Yo Yo Yo. What a

pastiche of montage. I want to cut

him in the screening room. I want

to communicate to him that I want

this. This is our medium, my line

while he worships me.