Love Poem for Sean D.
Jessica Rasile
The first time I saw him, he was sitting on concrete,
including me in his sight.
I noticed then the beef of him, his flanks.
He shook back his waved hair, bald crown-
his brother was the handsome one.
Sean had given up meat.
His nose sat small and Irish-shaped,
his teeth separated like mine are in my dreams.
We agreed about reading.
Under his cotton, Iād never seen hair like his,
jealously tight to his chest.
I used to be a reluctant queen,
but his hands were owning, he knew my use.
He treated me like an old lover, and so I was his old lover.
I knew all of her dead routines, he tilted and I knew.
His syllables slipped.
Children with intersecting hips.
He knew when to not speak.
I served him hot chocolate and liquor on his second visit.
