Mid-Century Modern

Christian Gullette

Behind glass walls,

the host slices limes.

I’d follow L.A. boys anywhere.

One kneels poolside

with a tray of Jell-O shots,

his shoulders peeling.

Desert palms echo in Ray-Bans.

Another guy fidgets with the knot

in my swimsuit.

Without indoors or outdoors,

I can invite everything in.

By the searing metal ladder,

memory is too hot

to climb out of.

My husband watches from a strip

of artificial grass.

In the desert

you have big afternoons,

not big nights.

Christian Gullette is a National Poetry Series finalist, and his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The American Poetry Review, The Kenyon Review, New England Review, Northwest Review, and The Los Angeles Review, among others. He is the editor-in-chief of The Cortland Review.
Originally published:
October 5, 2022


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