Outdoor Room
There was a rubber band in me
you plucked and it would pluck and hammer
as I waited in the dark, any breeze
that was from the window
to relax in order to drive home—
jittery, to come down, pull my limbs
together.
Those high, hot days—the air, more of it
up there. Then again night, the pool lit.
A ready thing. You’d bring out the mattress,
breathe at the nape of my neck
& I’d go all slick and guttering.
We were young then when the oaks watched
you ruin me with attention. 