from the new issue of Verse (Volume 26, Numbers 1-3)
Susan Stewart
A LITTLE ROOM
If you want to kiss in an elevator
you have to know when to start.
You can’t begin to bend any later
than the third floor. Your heart
is pounding (and buttons are lighting,
which means someone’s waiting,
though not for you). There’ll be springing,
whistling, and sudden abating,
two, then one, then two. Intent, intended,
push > < and pull me into your arms,
close and closer, suspended
(the lock switched off alarm),
above is looming, below’s the abyss,
and meanwhile the 3 is the charm.
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