"Poolside in August"

---

Here is the naked old house, boughs of

light squealing through the floorboards.

Here is first peek of red, a steaming

bath drawn in lines of open sky. My teeth

feel the water first. It’s too cold to swim,

but I get in anyway: the gangling cat

saps over the mossed wall, the

car alarm laughs down the street,

the hairs on my leg jump towards

home. A child’s perfect outline in the

concrete, pressed in by heat. Before

I can say anything, my girl detaches

from the overripe porch, leaves

her tan line imprint on the wooden

planks, lifts off— it was easier,

I guess, to say nothing at all. Summer

again, my hands into six sets of fruit.

---