Fantasia for the Man in Blue
Tommye Blount
Finalist for the National Book Award in Poetry.
Finalist for the Kate Tufts Discovery Award in Poetry.
Finalist for the Hurston/Wright Legacy Award in Poetry.
Finalist for the Publishing Triangle Thom Gunn Award for Gay Poetry.
Finalist for the Lambda Literary Award in Gay Poetry.
Finalist for the Julie Suk Award.
Finalist for the 2020 Big Other Book Award for Poetry.
Longlisted for the Believer Book Award in Poetry.
Featured in Poets & Writers.
Received a starred review in Booklist.
Received a starred review in Publishers Weekly.
The bug
lands on my pretty man’s forearm. Harmless,
it isn’t deadly at all; makes his muscle flutter
—the one that gets his hand to hold mine, or
ball into a fist, or handle a gun. It’s a ladybug,
or an Asian Lady Beetle everyone mistakes
for a Ladybug—eating whatever
it lands on. My pretty man is asleep—at ease, or
plotting like the bug. Or maybe the bug
is a blowfly—eating my pretty man’s tan
from his pretty arm. My man swats it
without waking, as if he’s dreaming of an enemy,
or me. When my pretty man isn’t asleep
he’s got a temper.
No, he is not
asleep. He’s wide awake and wants me to tell you
I’m wrong. Blowflies don’t eat skin,
they lay eggs on skin. He knows all about
blowfly larvae. Napoleon used them
to clean war wounds, my cold pretty man
says in that pretty way,
with his cold pretty mouth. He’s eaten plenty
of bugs before. On night watch,
over there. Over there, they’re everywhere.