Tyler French

The Resistance

We hit up the Cheesecake Factory
after the orgy in the hotel room across
the street, well 6/7 of us – Tom came
and left early – sliding into a booth
us cum comrades, one carrying

two loads, another three, their own
spilled across their bellies and tenderly
wiped away with a thin white towel
(the math of those lines – woof!)

The waiter knowing, from a glance
at Grindr in the service station,
what was up, if only he’d gotten off

two hours earlier! He presents to them
a toffee caramel double-decker

It’s on the house, boys.

The Resistance

At first, it seemed the distance
muffled the sound, the waves
the Bluetooth speakers providing
cover for pleasure, but sliding
down the dunes, closer to the mass

of 15-20 (fluid, hard to count) bodies
it was quiet. The occasional
breath as a cock slid in or out,
hands and mouths and webs

of precum, spitting, and the call
of a gull and a gust carrying
I feel good I feel good I feel

the tide pools rising to accept
their cum, the horseflies and

bivalves at the edges breathing

The Resistance

Under a heavy-bottomed moon
in late August, after a couple
of drinks (more than a couple…)
and ok burgers, the city singing
its goodbye, you hold your good

Judy and you kiss him
on the mouth in the special
way only good Judies can,
chapstick-slicked a lil tipsy,

open-mouthed with tongues
just teasing, electric, saying
thank you for the butt plug

recommendations, saying
thank you for your swell

and tender gift of friendship


Tyler French (he/him/his) is a queer writer living in Waterville, ME. His first full-length book of poetry, He Told Me was published by Capturing Fire Press in 2019. He has writing in Assaracus, Beech Street Review, Bending Genres Journal, Impossible Archetype, and The Quarry. See more of Tyler’s work at tylerhfrench.com

Spread the lust

The Erozine