Sometimes a repressed sexual urge is just a repressed sexual urge – by Daniel Roy Connelly


Now you are enjoying a banana in front of me.
The entire day with you has been a challenge.
You finish eating the banana and light a big cigar.
I have never seen a woman smoke a big cigar.
From behind a broad exhalation you begin
to tell me about the time you were on the
16.38 from King’s Cross to Cambridge;
the train got stuck in a tunnel for 71 minutes;
all the lights went out and a musty heat arose
around your excitable carriage. I am still finding it hard

to relax in your company
so I bring the conversation
round to Ferraris and what they
can do from a standing start. You zip off
to the bathroom only to reappear from the kitchen
with toads-in-holes, white sauce and delicately sliced baps.

I twice fail to light the tall centrepiece, the match heads snap-
ping off in my fingers while you grind the pepper-pot, eyeing me
like the new lady members do at Wednesday evening batting practice.
Restless is not the word for it but can’t put my finger on it, or properly get to grips.
At least I can look forward to the meal which commences with you staring at my lips.




Daniel Roy Connelly was the winner of the 2014 Fermoy International Poetry Festival Prize, a finalist in the 2015 Aesthetica Magazine Creative Writing Prize and winner of the 2015 Cuirt New Writing Prize for poetry. Published widely, his poetry currently appears in The Moth, Acumen, and Critical Survey. He is a theatre director and professor of creative writing, English and theatre at John Cabot University and The American University of Rome.

2 thoughts on “Sometimes a repressed sexual urge is just a repressed sexual urge – by Daniel Roy Connelly

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