Young People

Richie Hofmann

He was stirring coffee in his workout clothes.

I wanted to swallow him,

Coffee black in my stomach.

The sun was moving in the glass of buildings.

He was sweating, he was late.

I was suffering from beauty,

Thirstiest in the morning,

Sleeping in my T-shirt with stiff yellow armpits.

His belly was so warm.

He knew my name.

I could taste almonds in his mouth.

Tell me I own you, Richie.

Don’t forget it.

The hours we didn’t do anything

But sit on the floor in silence:

Nothing more erotic than being in the same room

Not interacting—

Reading different articles,

Our minds elsewhere,

The sky becoming white then black,

That submissive sleep

On the bed I gave to

My friend’s sister when I moved.

Richie Hofmann is the author of the poetry collections Second Empire and A Hundred Lovers.
Originally published:
April 17, 2024

Featured

Rachel Cusk

The novelist on the “feminine non-state of non-being”
Merve Emre

Books

Renaissance Women

A new book celebrates—and sells short—Shakespeare’s sisters
Catherine Nicholson

Fady Joudah

The poet on how the war in Gaza changed his work
Aria Aber

You Might Also Like


Rilke Poem

Richie Hofmann

German Cities

Richie Hofmann

Newsletter

Sign up for The Yale Review newsletter and keep up with news, events, and more.