‘Crush #49’ by Lea Graham

    

                                                A space must be maintained or desire ends.     

                                                                                                —Anne Carson

about your knees he whispered

above the hough, above the tongue

across certain palms

after evaporation, lacey & leaf-like

against oil derricks, the dark undazzle

along the avenue, hair toss & fuck all

among a scumbling of colors

around, glittering with joy

at the table : you’re beautiful    you’re beautiful    pass me the pepper

before I go

behind the dunes

below the belt

beneath alabaster, vitrified

beside himself

between sacrum & ilium

by gum

down river

during gibbous moons

except Vienna & Paris

for this poem

from the 12 strings to my heart

in rough sheets three times or more

in auricles, in airports

inside the stall beneath

instead of a kiss

into the south of it

like her petunias

near(er) she said

of moustache to helix

off the charts

on the lawn, paler than condoms’ gleam

on top of her nightstand

onto the next thing

out of chants & variation

outside windows, that entering takes away

over & over & over (again)

past Arcturus

since April is

through corners we dance

to Halsted & Taylor

towards geometry

under enormous pressure of circumstance

underneath, yes, underneath

until Cooley came to town

up Lisa Lane

upon learning “My Foolish Heart”

with him not there—

within ear’s hive

without him—    she hears him, she sees

(published in The Bedside Guide to the No Tell Motel, Second Floor Anthology, 2007)