#NoMorePresidents: “Floating Lessons,” a love poem by Levi Cain

i love you atlantic ocean
i love you dog beach in february
your hair swirling in the wind all perfume
i love you arboretum in all seasons
i love you defiant sprout of armpit hair
i love you half-smothered squawk at dirty jokes,
your eyes like two galaxies backflipping 
into a black hole full of molasses
i love you kiss the size of an atom
i love you morning mouth full of pennies
i love you zombie hands under our sweaters
i love you wednesday evening crabbiness
i love you swimming pond lessons in june, unafraid of geese or men
i love you saturday mid-morning crabbiness…..again
your wrists like metaphor metaphor metaphor
obviously i am undone by the sight of you
when you offload the dishwasher
when you cut shallots and turn the key in the door
my heart starts trembling like a fawn
i see the back of your neck and turn in hot circles
i mean the whole wretched year you kept pulling
love out of nowhere like a rabbit again & again
i mean i remember to suck my stomach in three days later
& by then why bother if you’re making menudo anyways
when you laugh it pools around us
i want to stick out my gut
and float.

Levi Cain was born in California, raised in Connecticut, and currently lives in Massachusetts. A two-time Pushcart Prize nominee, their work can be found in the upcoming issues of 86 Logic, Josephine Quarterly, and elsewhere. Their first chapbook, dogteeth, was published by Ursus Americanus Press in 2020.

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