Summer 1986 • Vol. VIII No. 3 PoetryJuly 1, 1986 |

August

I wanted to show her the dawncoming up over Truro, I wantedthe sky pulled downlike crepe after a dance.She wanted me to be Odysseusand tell her stories of that warI went off to. She thoughtmy beard was strange, that Ihad been wounded in some deep placeand she wanted to give me something.August will make you drunk some nights,gin and touching, the kind of talkyou stumble into, her ideathat two people who are not loverscan keep something of the worldfor themselves, the ideathat something taken from the worldcan ever correspond exactlywith what is in any one of us—and more,that we might recognize this when it happens.For August the memory is perfect,the places we touched, the graceof scattered light driftingover her cheeks, the runnelsof sand in her black hair,the way she sucked at the airafter a rush of words,and then the grayingof the sky down to the eastand the smell of bread as we rappedon the bakery windowand took hot loaves back to the shorewhere a single fishing boat awash in

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Frank X. Gaspar is an American poet, novelist, and professor of Portuguese descent. His most recent novel is Stealing Fatima (Counterpoint press, December, 2009). His collection of poetry, Night of a Thousand Blossoms (Alice James Books, 2004) was one of twelve books honored as the "Best Poetry of 2004" by Library Journal. His most recent collection of poems is Late Rapturous, from Autumn House Press.

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