The season's leaves half over at their peak as we drive down the hill. Or else we have no darkness, no sentence to begin with -- marriage an engine full of mileage while lovers wander naked through the woods with Polaroids, close-ups of their faces emerging from dark squares like Eurydice just before Orpheus turned to look -- which is why I ask you to take me from the rear, one hand choking my neck with a silk scarf, the other clamping down on my hip as you ride up and down so hard on a motel bed our bodies enter myth. And for the first time in years I model for the charcoal lines you draw, holding myself more still than breath allows -- and what shame there ever was comes rushing back to inhabit whatever form we can give to it. Let me chariot your bones into the sun that crimsons every leaf caught under these crude wheels -- a coarse rope taut against the harness of delight, your muscled flanks that pull desire's thread through the needle's eye -- Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE SUN by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE CITY IN THE SEA by EDGAR ALLAN POE THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SONG: 5 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD HIS NAME WAS KEKO by THEODORE BRIDGMAN |