Skin in a Bed of Kudzu//Colby Meeks

Go south. Down, down
down to a creekbed.

That’s where I want to love
you. Some place we can sweat

after just a few minutes of nothing
serious. Bodies slicked up before

they grow into a single skin,
sticky where flesh meets flesh.

Some place hot where everything moves
slower and I can take my time

sliding gentle hands around you:
warm as a body ready for heavy desire

reflexed with the perfect symmetry
of eyes to eyes and mouth to mouth

and hips to hips. Leave the lights on
so I can watch the shimmer of your summer

skin as though it is the glitter of stars
on which I could wish for the clock to stand

still. To catch this moment like a photograph,
how the humid air holds us tight together

and we are indistinguishable. Our bodies
rouged with the red clay holding us unsteady

in the warmth of a night lasting just as long
as we can stay in a slow, steady motion.

Come south. Down, down,
down.

Colby Meeks (he/him) is an Alabama poet currently pursuing a degree in English from Harvard University. His debut chapbook, DADDY, I'M SORRY, I CANNOT WRITE AN ELEGY (2024) was published by Penumbra Press, and his work is published in numerous journals. He can be found on Twitter @babysbbreath.