First Crush
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Late at night with the laughterof lovers in the distance,God walks like a beachcomberor a murmuring chambermaidpicking up the crushes that strew the earth,the innocent, hopeless crushesof boys and girls, women and men.
Perhaps only God can rememberhow they came to be called crushes,for she finds them crushedin her path each nightas if from accidentsof birth, of handsomeness,of encounters too late or early in life—they smell almost of blame.
She gathers them up,smoothing their bruised petalsto the best of her ability,which is considerable,and holds them to her breast.
She too has had her crushes,billions and billions,more even than the blossomsthat she clutches like a bride'scast-off bouquet. [End Page 113]
Garret Keizer is a contributing editor of Harper's Magazine and the author of eight books of prose, the most recent of which are Getting Schooled, Privacy, and The Unwanted Sound of Everything We Want. His poetry has appeared in a number of publications, including Agni, Alaska Quarterly Review, The Antioch Review, The Hudson Review, Image, The New Yorker, Ploughshares, Raritan, and The Best American Poetry. He lives with his wife Kathy in northeastern Vermont. garretkeizer@yahoo.com.
