Grant Chemidlin

Portrait of a Partially Abandoned Campground

He’s marrying a woman.

He who slipped down

his swim trunks in the pool,

wanted me to see the beautiful 

serpent, wanted me 

to risk my breath 

beneath the surface.

I envied his boldness.

I craved his hand

that flitted to my branch

without notice. 

I only came to life 

around him, stringless puppet.

The air he breathed had no 

fear in it, 

or at least, to me, he never showed it.

Mulch, night-grass, 

bead of sweat between his legs, 

the string of drip from his tip, 

my lips, the vows we kept, forgot, 

our separate tracks, 

those woods, those trees, those stars overhead.

From the clearing

I look back, 

small stack of smoke rising 

from the dense.

—————

Grant Chemidlin is the author of What We Lost in the Swamp (Central Avenue Publishing, 2023), a finalist for the Philip Levine Prize for Poetry. Recent work has appeared in Palette Poetry, Quarterly West, Iron Horse Literary Review, and Tupelo Quarterly, among others. He lives in Los Angeles with his husband and cat.