Ode to the Catskills and To You
september came like a baby,
like a wail of a train as it disappears
behind a mountain.
the light hitting the curtains.
the rain hitting the roof.
us, barefoot and wanting.
the everything of it all, soft and unbearable.
me unclasping your bra for you, slowly,
like pulling out stitches.
that fall as polaroids hanging above my bed:
blackcurrants on your lips.
the bleach-white bones of baby birds.
me, re-piercing my ear with a thumbtack.
you, laughing. your hair wet from a bath.
i loved you and the soft shirts you slept in,
curled around me. pictures never captured the magic,
the way the trees shivered with rain
and the milkweed danced with the wind.
how you taught me the names
of every star in the sky, and everything we wanted
poured itself right into our open hands.