Indian Summer
by Alexis Rhone Fancher
Sunday nights we’d drag the double mattress
to the roof, sleep under the stars,
naked,
on cool, silk sheets that caught the
moonlight.
I dazzled the heavens, my breasts
fluorescent,
pin point nipples saluting the
galaxies.
Your cock, darker than the rest of you,
would slip between my thighs.
You were better than any drug.
Friday and Saturday nights we’d head
for North Beach
in our thrift shop finery, (my
see-through
dress and platform shoes, your big
black boots);
after-hours at Keystone Korners, you’d
sit in with Freddy
Hubbard or Elvin Jones, play keyboards
while I
listened from my ringside table.
I knew you’d be famous. Your name
on the club’s marquee, a recording
contract
just a kiss away.
Meanwhile, you trawled the musicians’
union
for session work, paying gigs
(weddings, bar mitzvahs), played
security guard at the Hofbrauhaus,
coming home
at 3am, a purloined brisket or pork
roast under your jacket,
cooked to perfection. Still warm.
Some nights, I’d sit at the bar,
nursing a whisky,
watch you play adagios on the holster
of your gun to combat
boredom, a scowl on your face, like you
were straddling
the fence between guarding the place or
robbing it,
each of us dreaming of Sunday nights
when
we’d
lie together on the rooftop, complicit
in the steamy heat, searching each
other’s
faces for some secret, lost between us,
like how we fell in love in the first
place.
* * * * *
"Indian Summer" was first published
in Gold Man Review (2019).
Alexis Rhone Fancher is published
in Best American Poetry, Rattle, Hobart, Verse Daily,
Plume, Cleaver, Diode, Duende, Pirene’s Fountain, Poetry East, Pedestal
Magazine and elsewhere. She’s authored five poetry collections,
most recently, Junkie Wife (Moon Tide Press, 2018), and The
Dead Kid Poems (KYSO Flash Press, 2019). EROTIC: New & Selected,
from New York Quarterly, and another, full-length collection
(in Italian) by Edizioni Ensemble, Italia, will both be published in
2021. A multiple Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, Alexis is
poetry editor of Cultural Weekly. www.alexisrhonefancher.com
Ahhhh, here's to yout', may it last forevvv-ver!
ReplyDeleteThis poem is so beautiful--made me cry! I really love the image at the end of a secret being searched for in each other that has been lost. Reminds me of an idea in Emerson's, "The Poet", where he describes a secret which we all learn that there is something more than just material and intellect, an energy or place of being where we are more authentic and true version of ourselves.
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