Maclay, Sarah

English

eGrove (Univ. of Mississippi)

Yalobusha Review Volume 5 Article 27 8-1-1999 Smoke; Green Swimmer Sarah Maclay Follow this and additional works at: https://egrove.olemiss.edu/yr Recommended Citation Maclay, Sarah (1999) "Smoke; Green Swimmer," Yalobusha Review: Vol. 5 , Article 27. Available at: https://egrove.olemiss.edu/yr/vol5/iss1/27 This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by the English at eGrove. It has been accepted for inclusion in Yalobusha Review by an authorized editor of eGrove. For more information, please contact egrove@olemiss.edu. Sarah MaclaySmokeI don't even touch myself  this time, it isn't even that, a sudden shudder turns my body into a whip and I slam my face into flannel as if signaled, imagine kissing the bones at the base of your neck: soft, slow, my lips  making a necklace on your skin. It doesn't matter  that this could be grotesque  to someone walking by, my thrashing with the invisible like a catnipped feline bent on dancing into the floor.I pause for the moment before my pelvis scoops the sheets.I can run.I can close my heart for several days, work with terrifying order and efficiency  until I'm loosened like an undone blouse soaked in acres of rain, wet needles thick from the sky, water busting down in cords  of redwood. Call it an obsession if it makes you feel more comfortable.1Maclay: Smoke; Green SwimmerPublished by eGrove, 1999I call it the thing that always happens  when the perfectly skipped rock strikes the pond.69 2Yalobusha Review, Vol. 5 [1999], Art. 27https://egrove.olemiss.edu/yr/vol5/iss1/27Sarah MaclayGreen SwimmerI plant  myself in the midst  of the crowd  but I may as well fly through  the room,  gliding like the nude in this painting: somewhere between the night sky and sea, bare, breasts exposed, back arched, legs apart, arms  thrust back--away from my sides, buttocks muscles in gear,  pushing forward, neck tilted upward as if reacting  to a touch and I don't know if it's my chin  hitting the ocean or being stroked by feathers or air and I'm so openI'm leaking. I cannot hide, all I  can do is dive,  sail, fall as though I'm going down a slide and it's metal, it's slick, it's slanted, it offers no choice over gravity or thrill'til my heart grows bigger than desire. It cannot resolve circular equations: I love him. I could love her.It stretches until it's the size of my body,  the size of this room, like canvas nailed to the ceiling, nailed to the floor, close to the ripping point.70 3Maclay: Smoke; Green SwimmerPublished by eGrove, 1999

Smoke; Green Swimmer

https://egrove.olemiss.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1418&context=yr

Smoke; Green Swimmer

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