THE FORECAST
In a sudden
downpour, he won’t
make room for me
under his umbrella—
leans away
when I put my arm
around him, asks
what do I think I am
doing, whose fault
is it for not having
paid attention
to the forecast
at breakfast when
I was still
toweling off
his cum from
my chest—the rain
falling harder
off those sharp
metal tips
jabbing my face—
NATIVITY SCENE
Who knows who made
off with the baby
Jesus, replacing it
with an empty box
of Trojans “ribbed for
her pleasure,” Mary’s
plastic robe spattered
with a substance
ample enough
to fill any receptacle
tip, Joseph looking
the other way, the city
asleep except for
the CCTV camera
swiveling around,
trying to catch
a glimpse of anything
to complete this
otherwise dismal
scene at four a.m.
where only a dusting
of snow was expected
to fall in a world
warmer than ever—
TIMOTHY LIU’s latest book is Luminous Debris: New & Selected Legerdemain (1992-2017), a finalist for Publishing Triangle’s Thom Gunn Award. A new book of poems, Let It Ride, is forthcoming from Saturnalia Books in the fall. He lives in Manhattan and Woodstock, NY. www.timothyliu.net