"Post-Hellenic" by Tanya Grae
Post-Hellenic
Hair spills over my face as he glides
my cutoffs to my thighs, all Coppertone
& cream. Straight from mythology, he is
one of the junior gods, where I’m an extra
in this scene. He crosses the caution line, hand
glossing lips, tongue & ticklish. My hips
confess fireworks all at once —
the fourth of July. Early independence,
this taste. More — wings, electric, titillation
of what a girl can do, how to turn it,
serve it — to a boy in an Eagles jersey
& button-flys. He finger-combs his look
& leans back against the bleachers. Beautiful
boys without brains are disappointment,
the whoa — to fasten my shorts & float
feather-light, that subtle tallness that comes on
& lingers against the glow, a half-grin.
Here he ends, but there are highways
towns, other names I’ll forget.
Photo Credit: Staff