after Diane Seuss
year of the breakup, year of the family
emergency; year of the kissing dream,
the drug allergy, the cartoon heart, the fantasy;
year of the piledriven snow, year of the dirty
laundry. you pulled me to the floor and wrapped
your legs around me. jas said the message
was wet, not like, so wet, but like, waterlogged
and sodden; i said yes; i understood them;
my love, too, made me like a rained-out sheet,
and everyone else still had their winnowed dreams.
what if we really did it? somebody asked of jubilee,
their voice hot as a red coil: year of the dry grass,
year of the fallow field. year that i washed in the stream,
year that i beat against the rocks roughly, lovingly.
