by Stephanie Sesic
(12/01/10)
I don't know enough about jazz
to write this poem
but hearing that music
for the first time with you
kissing for hours
on a hard wooden bench
made me question how kissing
had been invented first
before this guiding pulse
beat in the blood
an external heart
regulating the flow
and press of two bodies
rhythm magnifying emotion
into something tangible
as a word held carefully
on the tongue
as a gaze I can't meet
without drawing closer
until we're both making changes
to the phrase
we've played so long
in other venues
each keeping one
guide tone constant
as we approach
something fuller
and harder, quick
anticipate the beautiful
resolution
manipulate the lick
Anniversary Dinner
I wear that black velvet dress from the vintage thrift in Cleveland
across from the market in the old train station
where we sat on a ledge in the balcony
swinging our feet and grinning
two kids in their tree house
giddy with our bird's eye view
you bring champagne with a bitters-soaked sugar cube
like we had at the French café in Euclid
sitting outside on red-painted wrought iron chairs
the sweet potato and pear soup you made all last winter
because it was my favorite
chocolate satin of homemade ganache
and on top of the dress
with its coppery swirl of embroidered flowers
you knot a corset of red silk rope
tie my ankles to the chair legs with thick white cord
kneel in front of me, loosen your tie
and push the velvet dress up my thighs
keep eating, you say
as you lower your head
The Poet's Companion - by Kim Addonizio and Dorianne Laux