It’s the summer air over small queer-town America
that pulls you in
— into coffee shops, sun-warmed sidewalks, the smell of SPF lacquered over familiar skin;
opening a familiar page, falling into syntax t
hat pulls at the
corners of my mouth
just before I was ready to swear off this yearbook,
surrender my lips,
having them sunk by gravity
I stepped off the porch with a gentle thud,
the sound that slacks restless minds
that smells of freshly cut spring grass
that shakes you to the core come fall
that has you singing songs on the way home again
into a new year
(He tastes of vanilla kisses,
cinnamon touches
lingered with sensations
cheered me through morning dew,
casted silhouettes into smile lines
sandwiched between graham cracker sheets
shared pillows like settled gelatin)
In a bed with another warm body,
taller and longer and larger than mine,
the touch of fingertips on lower backs,
tracing creases in skin that
carved canyons
in my mind throughout the night
A body that exists, earnestly —
an honesty alien the one I no longer yearn to hold
A faith re-instilled in me
previously lost to unanswered voicemails
unfolded laundry in the corner,
untidy outside open suitcases
(Messy as a heart discarded in early May
since held by friends, patient with mine —
my love —
all mine
as I went about filling deafening spaces)
gilded optimism
chameleon sunrises
melted candle wax
postcards sent with steadied hands)
Twenty fingers latticed on the side of Neeley Road
I feel myself unraveling,
loosened by a conviviality over churned cheesecake,
transformed into soft serve along Brookside Lane
my shoulders drop
my chrysalis collapsed —
into another journal page
and for this moment in time,
I can’t help but know why,
mine all mine.
