Turn | Bruce Isaacson
After my day spent finally cleaning the garage, we start
making love and for no reason, suddenly, it’s like
I’m thirty again, the touch & response, kiss & allure,
enthusiasm to spare. We have done this so many times
the stages are like a museum where I’ve written a guidebook.
We know the work of these masters, their strokes and
light, even the mole on the inside thigh of that model
is familiar. But this—this is a whole new school, break open
a new wing of the museum, let the light in, crack the ceiling,
suddenly, wherever she touches it’s my heart, beating,
bounding like a stag over snow. Later we lie
side by side in the lobby of desire quietly
wiping up, breathing together to the blues station.
She will look up not wanting to seem surprised and ask
‘What was that about?’ I’ve been in love with women
now for over forty years, what is any of it about?
There’s the mortgage, children, frustration, work tension
too harried to breathe, after a decade turning away
suddenly my wife & I turn to one another again. What is
that about indeed? All I can think of in the moment is to blame it on
the garage, floor swept, rakes & shovel hung, toys
stacked in bins, her close, as she accepts it, the garage,
as we laugh in the ignorance of bliss.
Bruce Isaacson has been writing since the 1980s when he became involved in San Francisco’s infamous Cafe Babar series. He earned degrees at Claremont McKenna, Dartmouth, and Brooklyn College, where he submitted a thesis to noted American poet Allen Ginsberg. He is the publisher of Zeitgeist Press, which has produced over 100 books of poetry. Today, he lives in Las Vegas with his wife and daughter and is the first Poet Laureate of Clark County Nevada.