Two Poems by James Davis

Dec 20th, 2018 | By | Category: Poetry


“an abdominal muscle” – The Official SCRABBLE Players Dictionary

I’d like just one—the upper left, why not,
indented there like the first
cookie cut into the sheet of dough—
to show off in becomingly posed photos.

Picture me in profile, reclining poolside,
my lower gut hidden under Ulysses,
my one dense knot
glistening with Coppertone.

Picture me in Vogue Hommes
modeling my chum Giorgio’s white silk chemise
with its single cutout
you know where.

Up yours, ex-lover! Up yours, ennui!
I exude core power,
very specific core power,
you don’t know what you’re missing,

do you? Who doesn’t? Touch my tummy
right there, yes, there,
lick my little nested egg,
ignore the rest, it’s none of your concern,

the ho-hum chest, the wispy fur ringing the nipples,
the good old penis. I didn’t suffer
this long for you not to
touch me where it counts.


“an advertisement” – The Official SCRABBLE Players Dictionary

You remember every word
of the Ring Pop jingle, don’t you?
It’s a lollipop without a
stick, a ring of flavor you can
. You jammed it on your finger,
remember? The plastic setting,
the enormous, corny jewel
on your soft, small hand? You looked rich
with three shiny Pops on each hand,
rich and fancy. Maybe you were.
Maybe you were a son of a
dentist, and all the kids in your
gated community got big
white teeth for Christmas newsletters.
Or maybe you were filthy poor
and your teeth were brown, still are, but
you had television, of course,
and Mom took you to the arcade
one Saturday a month to play
a fistful or two of tokens
on Break the Bank or Wheel ‘M In.
Remember the piles of tickets
you earned? Remember how it felt
like you had money? You could buy
anything you wanted, and you
wanted a Ring Pop, didn’t you?
Your licked it like the ad said to,
but that got old. You got antsy.
You pulled it off, started to suck.
It looked like a pacifier
in your sticky mouth, didn’t it,
you baby, you poor, poor baby?


James Davis lives in Denver, where he writes training materials for Chipotle, takes classes at the Lighthouse Writers Workshop, and directs the Denver/Boulder Scrabble Club ( His poetry and prose have appeared online at HTMLGiant, NANO Fiction, and Otoliths, and in print at 32 Poems, Copper Nickel, Best New Poets, and elsewhere. He is currently working on a book of poems for every two-letter word in the Official Scrabble Players Dictionary.

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