Rp Verlaine lives and writes in New York City. He has an MFA in creative writing from City College and taught English in New York public schools until he retired. His first volume of poetry, Damaged by Dames & Drinking, was published in 2017 and a second collection, Femme Fatales Movie Starlets & Rockers, in 2018. A set of three e books titled, Lies From The Autobiography 1-3 followed in years 2018-2020.

Cuts Of Meat

Discounted for 
the amount of less 
than 3 bucks per 
lb. Yes, meat  
truck fresh 
chicken/ ducks left 
as upside 
down necktie thefts 
of life now 
at the poultry place. 
 
These frail looking birds 
too pale for pity 
on sale are slaughtered  
head to tail 
for housewives who 
watch their post 
mortem butchery 
impassively &  
dispassionately 
as lost sinners.  
Except 
for the young  
ginger who gasps  
then exits  
joint fast.  
 
Vegetarians  
may have 
a point, I  
admit 
at long last...and—
I, too, 
exit  
without  
dinner.  

After The 80’s Party

The day-glow
light fantastic
In my bedroom

Where a Madonna
look-a-like 
past thirty

Still looks fine
in my smooth
silver satin sheets.

I kiss the faint
tattooed tears on
her cheek.

To her shoulders
muscular but she whispers
surrender in each lost breathe
when I’ve worked my 
way down.

There is
no music no
background noise
but she is
enough.

Long past restraint
after we’ve twisted
past three sweet 
entanglements.

I ask if she’ll
trade her cheap
Madonna gold cone outfit
for my Slash, Gun and Roses
top hat.
Smoking a cigarette
she exhales, laughs
says “honey, honey, honey
fuck the hat
you can keep me.”

A Thirst Not Yet

She dares me to
deny love hides in this room
we’re naked in.

I slyly say that she’s far
too close to everyone
I’ve walked away from.

Who would call later
knowing only that I
wouldn’t answer.

She suggests that I
kiss her until we can find
something new.

After all, 
she’s married with
a man she can’t disown.

I know she’ll return to
after wandering far enough
to need a plane ticket.

Until then she’ll fly
by night for revenge
for a thirst not yet sated.

Yet when she leaves
It is I exposed as 
a cheap X-ray.

Finding I already
miss her laughing at my
jokes that weren’t jokes.