Friday, June 26, 2015

boy enthralled


            BOY ENTHRALLED


 

Saw him at a party, left for the world wowed, scrawled

smart-ass postcards all summer long: "nothin could be finah

than to board an ocean linuh in the mawning..." "At the Coliseum

watched lions maul Christians... We are appalled..." 

 

"We're in Pompeii; something bad has happened here..."

He loved the postcards before he loved me. Next summer

was green as peacock feathers, and nothing stalled. 

We romped in rivers, played guitars till morning

 

blanched the sky, tramped through emerald woods to the bald

of peaks, no complaints of torn shirts, pricked fingers,

when we picked blackberries. He passed the crowd

of others.  No bad moons, snakes, mosquitoes. No poison ivy.        

 

I'd tear my body from his before daylight bawled

us out for picnicking, breast-stroking those crowded seas: beer

and bourbon. I didn't know what it was called

to wake with woodsmoke in my hair, head bursting loud.

 

He felt like home; I wanted us to be avowed, called

to the same destiny. My pulse leapt to catch his eye

across any room. I steadied him when floors undulated,

he me after the heat of family brawls.  His family didn't yell.

 

The day our hands let go, and I sprawled away,

into a solitary orbit, was forty years

from when he first bowed and snatched my heart

standing on my front porch, a boy enthralled.

1 comment:

  1. Oh. This is gorgeous. Beautiful use of language and emotion.

    ReplyDelete