IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
Home
Table Of Contents
Authors
Acknowledgments & Links
 

AUTHORS


MALE IMAGE

Ted Solotaroff

I watch for my uncles to come in from the fields, The three of them, big-shouldered men in overalls. Their bare necks are streaked with dirt and sweat Which I want to lick when they pick me up. They are so warm and strong; they smell of summer: The dark odor of horses, the dry green smell Of tomato plants, the tan smell of loam. They taste male and I can't get enough of that. They also talk male. Everyone else calls me Teddy Or Little Benny, after my father, who doesn't pick me up; They call me "You bondit," which is Yiddish for rascal, Or Butch McDevitt, which makes me feel like a cowboy. When my uncle Moish puts Brownie in the stable, He says, "Get in there, you son of a bitch." Son of a bitch. I say it over and over after that, When I rake the chicken yard, shuck the corn. It's not a bad word anymore. Son of a bitch: It's what men say when they re strong and happy Because they have something hard to do.

 
 
Website Design and Hosting by Allied Computing