Past Light by Pimone Triplett - Poems | Academy of American Poets
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Within reach of sex but not yet
Within reach of sex but not yet, I remember, a few stars freckling the vacancies past the yard’s blown flood beams and father’s single sycamore. Expert amateur, I thought myself, aged thirteen, rabid for facts and trying to have a mind for what each light was. This I knew: arrivals of gaseous crackups wholly unlike us, and not pinpricks, nor quaint connect-the-dots, nor tiny stabs of will. Sky’s Zenith, Lyra, The Great, The Small Bear. Hopes rose. It was before the boys and window escapes, before breakup seeped into the house like bad water. I loved stories of staying in place. In the one…
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