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Another Blonde Boy |
There was another blonde boy once
saucer-faced cracker smile
double-jointed elbow
eight years old
who hopped on a broom to make me laugh
who told me he loved me
in the back of an old movie house
towhead to brown
knee to knee, whispering
who crouched on the floor
in my parent's bedroom,
quiet between bureau and bed
and kissed me here
on a cornflower cheek
and my heart opened like Kansas
who stood across the street at school
and signed I Love You
with frantic dancing hands
whose love was a secret between pages
his letters, my diaries
how public can you be at eight?
there was another blonde boy
four leaf clover, Irish melody
the mouth of this river
I hold this old child love
in the palm of my hand
like a dandelion he said
he loved me
he would marry me someday.
all he ever did was kiss me
here
While this one
tall, wiry peony eyes
nimble like a giraffe weaving fast
on the Serengeti toward me
away from me uncertain
played balalaika on my backbone
and rolled me like a hoop
made love as patient as a prayer
and kissed me here
on the mouth and here
the breast cupped me
in his hands like water
but never said
he loved me
Sunlight boys
They whisper in my ear like wheat
a lullaby of cornhusks of sugarcane
a lullaby of salt
across the plains of
amidst the rain of muscle
each placed childhands around my heart
and left them there to stay
(previously pubished in 2 limited edition chapbooks: LA LA, the Los Angeles National Slam team chapbook, 1997; Better Living thru Amplification, Chapbook for Phoenix Poetry Festival, 2000)
copyright 1997
Deborah Edler
Brown |
