Savannah
Our love began in a petri dish no
father or mother and the fertilized
form uncurled in a series of
surrogate condos with views up a
boulevard lined with live oaks from
a window as big as a Motherwell on
the 22nd floor. Our love was born on
a dancefloor in Canada, our love said
nothing, still doesn’t talk much, stupid
but playful, leaning in against each
other like gourds on a porch, with a
knocking sound and an echo that squishes.
Our love needed school, got some lousy
grades and is still behind the others,
is failing some of its subjects (math
and shop) but does decent in English
and geography and is still of course our
love.
Daniel Meltz lives in Manhattan, between a beauty parlor and a nail salon. He works as a technical writer at Google, and his poetry's been published or will soon be published in American Poetry Review, Assisi, Audio Zine, Best New Poets 2012, CCAR Journal, Imitation Fruit, Lana Turner, Mudfish, Salamander, Temenos, upstreet and Verse Wisconsin, among others. He has a BA in English from Columbia.
