Boss Cupid

Boss Cupid
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“how we wanted
to let him come”
—Anne Sexton
“Sylvia’s Death”
The Complete Poems
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He was so cute—
When he was a boy
Nude with wings, arrows

Later, grown up—
People never forgave him
For doing what he did to them
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No wonder he grew up—
To be such a male slut
A gigolo hiding in disguise

Was he only kidding—
Being such a big shot
All the fairies thought so
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Yesterday I found him—
Hiding in a purple crocus
Getting a quick blowjob

Central Park was trashy—
But he was getting his work
Done, in the bushes
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He let them blow him—
His mother got so sad
He used to be so Str8t

He’d wash himself up—
Smoking Daddy’s cigar
Young teenage Cupid
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He got so skinny—
But that’s how they
Liked it, lean & mean

Sylvia & I don’t care—
If he’s str8t or gay
He’s our baby boy
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How can there be a—
Queer Easter or Xmas
With a faggy cupid boy?

After Lowell’s class—
Mary, Sylvia & us girls
Plus our Bad Boy Jesus
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I don’t know if
He’s hiding or flyin high
Sly white trash boyz

Our young chauffeur—
Driving fast down to hell
Orphée hustler kid
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They say he’s dead—
Isn’t that what those
Dead boyz do best?

No wonder they crucify—
Cute hustler boyz nude
Up there on the cross