September 27: Longing, Saeed Jones, "Kudzu"

Really tired today.  I'm longing for a quiet night, although I have to teach an evening class.

I love the word "longing."  It stretches itself across sentence, line, page.  It calls to mind the feelings I had as a teenager, when the one person you longed to be with didn't like you "that way."  I remember that girl.  She was beautiful and smart, the object of longing from many people, male and female. 

I've not seen this person since I graduated from high school, many, many years ago.  And maybe that's a good thing.  She remains frozen in that longing, forever young and beautiful, like Marilyn Monroe or James Dean or River Phoenix.

And that's the way Saint Marty prefers to remember her.  Forever.

Kudzu

by:  Saeed Jones

           I won’t be forgiven

for what I’ve made

of myself.

            Soil recoils

from my hooked kisses.

            Pines turn their backs

on me. They know

what I can do

with the wrap of my legs.

            Each summer,

when the air becomes crowded

with want, I set all my tongues

upon you.

            To quiet this body,

you must answer

my tendrilled craving.

            All I’ve ever wanted

was to kiss crevices, pry them open,

and flourish within dew-slick

hollows.

            How you mistake

my affection.

            And if I ever strangled sparrows,

it was only because I dreamed

of better songs.