DARLINGS

MATTHEW MITCHELL

 
 

past the humming of the
stadium / voices exploding,
crumbling in the heat, the
citrus-tinted sky beating like
a snare, the summer resplendent
rising / she taps her foot against
the edge of the bleachers / youth
growing faint at twilight, flickers
of the city flanking across our
faces / last summer i didn’t
know touch could be fireworks
crackling, could be a sailboat
on the canvas of lake erie in
graphite / and in the reflection of
the metallic railing is a portrait
of a woman as a paradise / as a
utopia under the cleveland
constellation, as an incandescent
shimmer against the handle of the
crescent moon, as the membrane
of a tangerine grating against my
teeth, as a luminous deluge of kisses
onto burning planets / and the
machine of the seats throb against
our shivering backs / the pull of
the monochromatic outfield
hunching our bodies forward /
when a home run cracks open the
mezzanine labyrinth, a rhododendron
blooming through honeyed earth,
a deciduous appalachian grand
slam licking the inner thighs of
orion’s belt / and we become two
acolytes ascending beneath a
gleaming scoreboard, soaking up
a moon shot off the bat of our
first baseman, kissing against the
vibrating warmth of a night sinking
beneath the light pollution of the
city beyond our pulsating nebulas
 
 

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