Marjorie Thomsen

Standing Outside the Luxembourg Gardens

The gates lock at nine p.m. despite the high light, the wide-awake rock doves. Inside the Gardens, a bone-dry statue of Hercules diverts the River Alpheus with a virile slant of his hips. The flowers have finally climaxed in their beds and maybe tonight they'll begin their long goodbye. At the entrance, Paris boys are locked in mischief's embrace; they whip off sweat and shake the gates as if they were gods and could snap steel. It is the night before August,

weighty birthday eve
halt regift cobalt midnight
releasing coos knots