Take Me with You, Wherever You’re Going
A memoir-in-poems about coming of age in sultry Florida and the speaker navigating a complex relationship with her wife grounded in the daily world.
“Stridulation Sonnet” from Take Me with You, Wherever You’re Going
Tiger beetles, crickets, velvet ants, all
know the useful friction of part on part,
how rub of wing to leg, plectrum to file,
marks territories, summons mates. How
a lip rasped over finely tined ridges can
play sweet as a needle on vinyl. But
sometimes a lone body is not enough.
So a sapsucker drums the chimney flash
for our amped-up morning reveille. Or,
later, home again, the wind’s papery
come hither through the locust leaves. The roof
arcing its tin back to meet the rain.
The bed’s soft creak as I roll to my side.
What sounds will your body make against mine?