And I could smell Tennessee <br />Grass in your hair; <br />Your body, your neck <br />Bosomy white; <br />And see your red flannel <br />Shirt <br />Against the evening trees; <br />Catch a glimpse of you <br />Running <br />From the moth orbited <br />Porch lamp light; <br />Your sneakers sparkling <br />White on the gravel; <br />The over the shoulder wide-eyed <br />Glance, <br />Clear skinned with no blue <br />veins; <br />Thick dungaree thighs pumping <br />Over <br />The niight water tar, <br />Rising <br />Out of the weeds of the <br />Drainage ditch; <br />The O'Neils watched too <br />With a life-time of squinting <br />In their faces; <br />Now they are dead <br />And only is night now: <br />Tennessee black night; <br />My heart is choking.<br /><br />David McLansky<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-memory-of-joyce-stirs-the-trees-at-night/
