12 began something truly erotic
the beginning of fantasy ecstatic
early summer
surrounded by fruit trees
and hallowed fruitless women
sleeping in twin beds
emerging at dawn
i walk barefoot into the gardens
feeling the finial shadow
from high ground
he is there
climbing down from a ladder
his hair is so strange and wonderful
peaked up against the straight wisps on his neck
stretch and stain
the uniform of summer work
into the pear tree i lean
the cut clear
armhole of his shirt
i plunge into this summer longing
watching 16 so hopefully
wondering when all of those things
will ever be for me
venture from the insulate
to town
the pretty curled one
so sparkled among the hoods
folded me into her confidence
in the glazed heat
a place
with disparate things
kites and spoons
things to touch and buy
with dimes and nickels
returning in the armored sun
the slow heaviness
wisconsin summer
high afternoon
water around our stride
pacing past
he sits with a friend
in sympathetic resin
rounding his tongue
fingers angled delicately
cantilevered insect grace
ice pick elegance
up from the tip
mass goes quietly
the malevolence
that this place of women
requires a male
to tell them who to be
walking granite stairs
abrupt Italian
spoken by a woman
who has arrived at 109
only to be delivered
to this outside place
and when the day breaks again
she is so happy today
takes me to meet
with them
whispering softly
in so many languages
then we rush
down the stairs
driving out
where heat flattens the ground
and sharpens the meadow
we pick illicit berries
hiding
backed into thorns
as the work trucks
saunter grudgingly by
on the return
the dry grasses
slice my shins
and knees
now covered in black purple
berry ink
i watch the clock
next to the window
when it hits
he steps across
skinny cuffed jeans
the toes of his work boots
barely swing above the grass tips
i cram three berries into my mouth
i step out of the flat little house
backed up against the gold brick
the chewing burble suck
that berries evoke
i whisper incantations
willing him
to look to me
to give me
another view to dream
biting my juice blackened lip
black skins on my teeth
he won’t notice
he never does
and i fall into my narrow bed
cross overhead
this turning
i want madly
to dream of him
dreams are the only garden
where boys ever seem to like me
i blink upward
at the impact
the soles
of bloodied wooden feet
and so my respite from this painful edge
the thoughts i have
this coarse twin bed
prescribed to deter
any embrace
no will ever join you here
and as much as i love the tune
of the gardens
the companionship
the hum of books and contemplation
these precious slivers of monastic life
no one climbs into your side
it's just you
and your thinly woven blankets
each night
my fantasies too deep
for all of that
thick were the things
that seemed so out of reach
like the boy
pulling apples from the trees
and filling holes
on his elegant knees
as summer waned
he left my present
but never my mind
and i headed west
from franciscans to dominicans
from the soft light of nature love
the catechismic cult of animals and children
to the sharp minds
of foreign manuscripts
journeys to far off places
the marvelous stories
that accompanied
one to the other
so out of translation
as i head to this dark tower
no men at all
the business of scholarly consumption
the only priority
so admirable
and genderless
it is difficult to imagine
something in this place
that resembles sex
no fruit of any kind
unless it's of the mind
everywhere i go
i go alone
the city breaks against me
i buy a cactus with my own money
not knowing this tiny thorn covered being
will live on my windowsill
until i'm 23
past this whole lifetime
that is about to begin
i wander to the lake
the beat that i climb in
she takes the till
lays it in
the battery kicks up and the motor bucks
she is singing lightly
in mandarin
this thing
this moment
it is perfection
i spend my life trying
to climb back
the birds alight long dead trees
the young blonde boy
with dark eyes
he palms tiny leathery beings
turtle eggs
i take a picture
where he is blurred
and the eggs clear
this image travels with me
my whole life
looking down at turtle eggs
for an eternity
i wait to return
