Dorothea Lasky - AWE
John Albertson in the Summer Sun
O John Albertson, you are so summery
In the summer sun.
You are so summery
You summery love.
You sunny summery kiss on the forehead and cheek.
Kiss me on the forehead and cheek, then kiss me on the lips.
Kiss me on the lips and hold my breasts.
Hold my thighs and breasts and then hold my breasts.
Hold my thighs to your thighs, then take me inside of you.
Hold me in your stomach and make a baby of me.
I think it is sweet that you have a cat.
I think it is nice that you have a cat and call
It Mr. Fingers.
When we talk on the phone, I want to say:
“Well hello Mr. Fingers.” And the cat would say back
* * * * *
What to say about this book? There’s a way that it reminds me (in the poem above and elsewhere) of Gertrude Stein (Lifting Belly, especially), in the way the elemental repetitions teeter at the liminal space between innocence and obsession. It’s an ambivalent space, catching the tone of perception, twisted through a precocious lens. It’s captivating. I can see why people are talking.