Academic journal article Field

Poem for Makeout Point

Academic journal article Field

Poem for Makeout Point

Article excerpt

In my day, we had dew-wet slides

on a padlocked playground.

The lot behind the Methodist church.

We had side streets, hammocks,

the neighborhood tree copse

that passed for a park. We came

home muddy. We came home chilled.

We learned to time our gasps

so we could call up the basement stairs

between them-no, we're not thirsty!-

our voices static inside their shivering.

Every bit of tongue and tooth,

every dark crocus of heat

that bloomed inside us: hushed

and illicit. We were dirty secrets.

It was us against curfew, us against

the billy club's car window thud,

us against our parents' saucer-shock eyes.

And it was us against each other,

mapless in the dark country of lust.

Those days I dreamed of parking

a great finned car on a cliff,

some city shaken out beneath me

like a sequined gown. …

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