For Joe Bolton
The Summer Loves
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.