at the center of her name—
first knell against the scoured
November air—I remember
all that laps against our hull,
a lifelong restlessness,
ledgers surrendering to legato.
What is lodestar and lamplight.
What is linen, warp & weft
of lambswool, lapels folding
outward. What is waking
in the dark to snow’s lamina
somewhere along the 78th parallel.
What is the longest day,
altocumulus mackerel over
lake. To clean the palette, let’s
do lavender’s sharp corollas.
A cartoon owl licks a lollypop.
Cue eleven cellos, maybe a lute.
Long looks across a long table.
Hell, sometimes we just want
what we want. What is this
odd pucker in the fizz:
lemonlime lemonlime.
That lesbian TV show
we used to binge-watch early on
every episode beginning with
the same insistent rumbling:
Lap Dance, Liquid Heat,
Last Couple Standing.
What is the slap of skin
against skin, lifelong
lengthening in sheets. Hands
clutching the lumbar spine.
La la la can hold all the unknown
words in song. Language
always a lumbering
approximation. Love.