Kelley Beeson 


I suddenly forgot why a body can make me so horny
--Frank Bidart

I think of the fruit we bought tonight 
from Jimmy's Deli on 6th Avenue, 
how I've been craving it all afternoon 
and how it is now waiting patient for me at home 
as you are and something I too strained for 
two years ago when I first met you. 
When you introduced me 
to the chemistry of a man's body. 
Introduced me to my own sentient sexuality 
and its numinous moments 
that had been long dormant,
ripening slowly, like the fruit 
that is waiting with you at home. 

Once I wanted the dazzle that comes 
with sex and a stranger. A body. An orgasm. 
The meat tightening. 
Veins. Bones. Glorious shoulder blade. 
Column of air inside chest. 
Arousal was entirely of this world. 
When I first tasted sex and met your body 
with mine, that was all I needed. 
Just the briny smell of a man 
was enough to remind me where I came from. 
The minty breath of a bachelor too aware 
of his solidarity could make me cry 
as far down as between my legs 
where everything I was then, resided. 
The muscled curve behind a man's thumb, 
I could fit my whole wanting in that small offering. 
Even something as simple as the alphabet, 
spoken in a man's voice--a drink of sweetwater-- 
could throw me into a thousand wisdoms. 

And now fruit and you 
wait for me to come home and take you both 
into my mouth, one after the other, 
Instead, I roam a city that is not mine 
(the best kind to roam) 
and stay away from the waiting. 
Craving something sweeter than 
all of these dark insides. 
The dizzy scent of melons and strawberries 
and the smallness of the lonely body 
aren't enough anymore. 

Copyright 2000, Kelley Beeson 

Kelley Beeson has just finished her MFA in Poetry from the University of Notre Dame and is currently pursuing a second Masters in Writing Education  from Vermont College. 

Switched-on Gutenberg/Vol. 4, No. 2