T H E   S U M M E R   L O V E S

                How deftly they undressed you,
                        Laid you down,
Their rough hands opening you like a flower
        In a field of flowers, their faces
                Dark with your dark.

                —Boys, you'd say now, though you
                        Never minded much,
And once you'd got them out of their daddy's truck
        And one good shirt, found them generally
                Adequate for your purposes.

                Hardly anything was ever said
                        At the time,
And little was ever said later that found its way
        Back to you. Still, there must have been
                Talk, for there is always talk.

                They took their time, and when they
                        Came, you came.
And it was as if your own body betrayed you then—
        As if only their body above yours kept you
                From falling into the blue of sky.