Fourteen - Poem by Allen Blue
We were still growing into our shoes
when I found my father's radio
and took you to a summer field.
While twisting to Sam Cooke
you showed me a body
that could move like words
through the pollen above the grass.
As the sky deepened overhead,
we became two harmonics
spreading out against the night,
and in my hands I felt you
warming like an old vacuum tube.
Comments about Fourteen by Allen Blue
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.