Emily Tallman

For June and July

After learning my lesson
I stopped looking for those
summer boys
with the shady eyes,
long tanned backs rising
out of river water
and shining like secrets in front of me.

I loved to study
golden-haired arms,
bare chests scattered with flecks of mica,
strong-knuckled hands learning their way around.

Before I learned
I loved
the smell of cigarette-hair
and sun-baked skin
in the night grass of July.

I looked for and found those
summer-water river boys,
swimming to the muddy depths
without watches or date books,

or lounging like cats
with half-closed eyes
in the shade of the eucalyptus—
pacing in the sand and leaving tracks
for me to follow.

Return to Volume 2.2

All files © 2005-2012 Blood Orange Review