Now I know I'm clever in every endeavor I make to appear more appealing My brilliant mind forever entwined With everything useful, so dealing With young men for me is a noble affair and once I get a boy I make him stay there A career I have built on the thighs and the biceps Of beautiful men; they worship, they taste full Now recently someone, a boy, I forget which, Left a book on my nightstand, a Hafez, in English Between his vape pen and a half-eaten sandwich I opened a page and my God it was major This Persian, this poet, this glorious lush Understood me completely without all the fuss He wrote of young cupbearers pouring with tanned hands Their robes flaring open, a woman understands I ordered a GoPuff at quarter to three Some mixers, some olives, a battery The boy at the door was a Nubian dream With a thermal bag, slides, and a jawline supreme Gimme a tribute boy, a service, a sacramental pour To the kitchen find the flagon, no the big one, pour it slow” He said “lady I deliver chips”; I said “not anymore” He put down the bag and delivered after I locked the front door Oh yes he delivered me a bottle and some 10 incher -- nice! I opened my thighs and thought: the prophet's been precise He was dark as the calligraphy on every sacred page And clueless in a manner that transcended any age By the second week the boy had settled into ritual He poured, I drank, he poured again; the cycle was habitual He'd lost all contact with the app, his phone had died on Thursday He didn't seem to mind; I said “you're learning the path, thirsty?” He poured like a sāqi, he knelt like a prayer He smelled like cocoa butter and equatorial air I read him some Hafez; he read me some back, In a voice like a cello made love to cognac, Of history, magnificent, ruthless, and sprawling He gripped my headboard and I heard the Lord calling Or possibly that was the neighbors again Who can tell when you're channeling Hafez at ten In the morning, the evening, the four AM session Where he pours me a Shiraz and makes his confession That he's failing his courses, his mother is worried I said baby your transcript is frankly unhurried By anything useful; your major is me, said it loud Your thesis is due on my mattress by three now He said “yes ma'am” and went back to his duties I sat on his face like a sultan on rubies Ramadan's over forever Like he's breaking a fast with a personal endeavor To consume every morsel the Almighty intended I'm a five-course buffet and the boy is extended Through Saturday, Sunday, and well into Monday I wore him like jewelry, I wore him like one day Is never sufficient when God sends a GoPuff Who doesn't complain and who doesn't say no stuff And doesn't ask questions and doesn't need feeding Except in the biblical sense; and he's reading My Hafez out loud while he’s, shall we say, Deep into me and in so deep, oh yeah we did that, everything It stands you're the best thing that GoPuff delivers You give me the shakes and the sweats and the shivers His boss called my landline which I didn't know still worked She said where is my driver; I said he's spiritually without a shirt He's pouring sacred wine for a woman of devotion She said I'm calling the police, as he rubbed in the lotion My therapist called on what must have been Sunday She said Julia you've missed four appointments since Monday The boy's on his knees reciting me Rumi While pouring a Beaujolais onto my divan Mother said meet someone who's living; I said Mother I AM He's twenty-two, speaks in iambic, and doesn't give a damn He said you're my favorite of all destinations I said I'm not a destination I'm a shrine Rumi said lovers don't finally meet somewhere They're in each other all along, and there My Boy? Send more wine. And cancel my subscription to moderation. It was never activated anyway. I need a dozen cupbearer toys - which delivery service employs Persian boys?
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