Jameson Stewart studied poetry at Indiana University and has published his poetry in indie magazines throughout the United States. He is 27 years old and currently resides in Eschweiler, Germany.
Winter 2012
Table of Contents - Vol. VIII, No. 4
Poetry Translations Fiction Non-fiction Reviews
Jameson Stewart
My first thoughts at dinner
Are of undressing you
Exposing the appetizer
Your crème of almond skin
The straps of your blue dress
Picasso blue
Sliding over your glazed shoulders
Falling toward the table
Spilling the water
The violinist walks by
He doesn’t notice
Preoccupied with Shastakovich’s Gadfly
And I am preoccupied with my next course
You stand
The dress falls
I reach toward your feet
Your feet of arched steel
Freeing them of their armament
The waiter refills the water
I loosen my tie
The salad arrives
Streetlight green
Using my fork and knife
I liberate your breasts
Indulging your al dente nipples
A starving man
Maddened with hunger
Under the table
You cross your legs
Between them burn coals
Buried under the ashes
Of a dead forest
Waiting for open air
Consumption
I motion the waiter
No need for the main course
He clears the table
At last, dessert
A diaphanous sorbet
Topped with shavings of your
Crushed pomegranate heart
© Jameson Stewart
