Friday, June 03, 2005

I wish I'd written this.

It Being A Free Country

Yesterday, swimming with you
arm over arm straight
to the center of the lake,
it occurred to me
that what I really wanted to do
was to swim up behind you,
run my hands across your back down round
to your belly.
I wanted to turn you around,
feel your mouth on mine--
the water was its own
free country, opening
smooth and clean
around my body,
but I did nothing. I turned over,
floated on my back, said a word
or two to the blank
blue above me--
Later in the day, I was out
in the field, bare-breasted,
on my knees, picking blueberries.
The heat from the hill kept rising steady
and constant into my body. I was distracted
watching my breasts extend their roses,
their promises, their don't you want to touch us
down to the berries
ripening at the roots of the grass.
There on the hill where the berries
grew freely, I bent into the blue fruit
staining my knees, my mouth,
my lips . . . I let the sun-warmed berries
open themselves in my mouth, and considered
what I wanted to say to you--
how I wanted to touch you--
what I would do after that.

Carol Potter
from Before We Were Born (Cambridge, MA: Alice James Books, 1990)


Peter said...

Lovely poem. The little berries very erotic. Even to this gay guy.

Anne said...

Peter, I've always been under the impression that gay guys liked berries just fine, so long as there are twigs involved as well.

(Yes, I went there. *hee*)

LKD said...

Wow. That's seriously lovely. But I anticipated the swimming line, where it was going or rather, where I thought it was going, wrongly. Swim up behind. Hmmm. My mind had a different preposition in mind. Might just have to write a poem about swimming. Swimming and hearts and love's luminosity---all the stuff I've read in the last 30 minutes or so.

So, have you written the oh shit squirrel poem yet? I just saw another squirrel doing it yesterday, pausing in the middle of the damned road--I braked and let him make up his mind. (smile)

Anne said...

Laurel: Hehehe, no, I haven't written the oh shit squirrel poem yet ... maybe it will pop up this week in the midst of all the readings I'm going to! I think it has to be funny (but dark too) and that's a hard tone for me to "do."

Write a swimming poem, yes! I can't swim -- for real -- though oddly enough I have gone snorkeling a couple of times. (Give a girl enough flotation devices and she'll bobble around safely even if she can't swim.) I'm quite fascinated by it though, for some reason -- water and stuff.