The overbearing hum of a million in love
signal the start of a summer I won’t feel
Born out of earth, memory, time
Crawling out of the back of my mind,
out of the tightly sealed boxes I’d placed them in
In days they are floating drunkenly in the sky
golden black moments of repression unleashed and
filtering through the sunlight in
assumed warmth with
assumed breezes
My footsteps shrink and I contemplate insurmountable
distances once crossed in a mindlessness not unlike
the stupor that surrounds me.
Ritual dances performed with a lewd audacity
and vulgar proclamation
only to have it all culminate with the smell of
putrid meat
and
years of waste and memory
in the rotting humidity
Dozens of small bodies writhing in streets and gutters
and still I am fixed behind panes of glass
Until silence, falling leadenly, allows a breath to escape and for two words to be realized:
Soon
Autumn.
