I.

golden harness blinks through / ride me while you can, summer / you're still hot / holy bandanna in the pocket / fingers rapt at the back of my sticky neck / out here I can hear you speaking my name in the baby-eared mayhem of green and yellow leaves / in the fat bodies of bees / all that's sodden with the weight of our terrible sky / in the news, what's new / eastern kentucky and manhattan mud-slick under the water / the citizens of salt lake breathing arsenic through a pollen-whipped blue / I heard on the radio we are being slowly heated until our cells will finally pull apart / how long until that happens / what can we do / let's cartwheel even though our skin is burnt / show off our panties at the apex of the tired swing / there are still walnuts, there are still sweet gum balls, there are still willows weeping on the hill / there are moles mad in their tunnels / a popsicle stick left to frenzy ants on the stoop


II.

fire works the moon still as an almond sliver / ten o' clock and the kids are still wrestling on the alley lawn / still the pale rose light's just a blank tease, heating the dark bar of the horizon / stars spit flecks from a mouth / i'm lost in families gathered in patchy-ass grass / still the scrape of folding chairs on driveway / thigh imprints a crosshatch basketweave / an ephemeral artwork of spotted rain still listening / earlier the pool shut down by tossed thunder in a lightning blink / we glow through every car's windshield / we music and shut out the rumbling of every undark side / we could become a ghost tonight / watch us absorb the light and bust guts as we flinch at each other but not the sky

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