Derrick Thompson

Derrick Thompson Poems

His deep voice beckoned my back to my room
To complete a task I had done before.
But now I was to clean up his mess
As if wiping up his spilled milk.
...

Slouching in the corner to make myself less
I watched in the dim room.
My bed, empty of my presence,
Filled more wholely by her student.
...

On a long overnight train throught the countryside
We relaxed in the compartment awaitnig our evening tea.
...

4.

Only outside, my wife demands.
So I relent and stand in the cold
Lighting a thick maduro cigar
The taste and smell replacing
...

I submit to all her demands
She demands I always sit when she's with a man.

A former student who teaches me a lesson
...

The sting of the paddle, the pinch of the clamp
The slap across the face, the strap across the back

Kneeling before you, watching you betray me
...

We rose early in the African heat
To watch the animals hunt and compete.

My new bride and I with our Kenyan guide
...

The Best Poem Of Derrick Thompson

Cleaning Up His Mess

His deep voice beckoned my back to my room
To complete a task I had done before.
But now I was to clean up his mess
As if wiping up his spilled milk.

The warm air filled of musk
I was directed to the fold.
The creamy liquid coating folds I knew well
His large hand, palming my head like a basketball,
Pushed me in to clean his mess.

The briny taste filling my mouth and scortching my throat.
I worked until he was satisfied.
But my labors gave her none of the old pleasure
And the walled echoed with their mocking laugh.

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