Founded in 1939, the Unterberg Poetry Center at
New York’s 92nd Street Y offers a wide range of
literary seminars, lectures and writing workshops.
Following the reading at the Y,
I shook his hand, surprised he seemed so spry,
if liver-spotted; so I joked that I
liked whiskey, men and my Salvages dry;
and stood a bit too close, and brushed his thigh.
He leaned towards me, intoned a soft reply,
“Let us go then,” and I thought I’d die!
He proved as rich, yet modest, as his tie;
and loved to tease, to offer and deny,
to use his clever tongue to crucify
me, pinned and writhing like a butterfly,
until I’d shake and cry. How I miss my sly
old Possum-puss; my secret love; my wry,
dry, ragged clause; my Sweeney-pie; my guy!