Page 174 of Wayfarers

in the night, I’m a nervous system, I’m shaken

awake. I’m shaking a little, thinking

about it now. We make a pile of our stuff

by the spring, what we can take off

and walk away from. Knox pulls

his shirt off by the collar, one-handed,

ripple of muscles in the shoulder,

a chest I haven’t touched yet

without the pretense of sunscreen.

I’ve always been so careful. Do it right,

don’t risk your future, don’t let it

go. Am I abandoning all that, watching

shamelessly the shift of his strong,

ropy arms? Then his fingers

go for the button on his jeans

and I spin around, thinking

about my ears, now, the artery

in my neck, the pulse in them, the tremble

in my fingers. In my knock-around

sundress, knock-kneed, sliding

the straps down around my arms

and hoping he isn’t looking

and hoping he is. I’ve never

been naked in front of a boy

before. How dark is this dark,

tonight? How much light

do we really need to see

each other for who we are?

Knox

I sit cross-legged on a towel on a rock, Winslow snuggled up to me.