Going, going, gone

2 Aug

melt

This poem is a summer Friday

melting faster than you can eat it

dripping

down

sugar

cone

grids

and getting all over your fingers

untiltheysticktogether

and

you have to lick them free.

***

This poem twinkles

like elusive fireflies

chased through meadows

mason jar in hand

maybe you catch it

maybe not.

***

This poem makes you

run                 across                 the             street

to save your bare toes

from hot asphalt.

You still don’t

put your shoes on.

***

The poem is nightfall

gentling the summer heat

until it barely brushes your cheek,

whispers in your ear

‘fall is coming.’

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One Response to “Going, going, gone”

  1. bookmole August 20, 2013 at 6:47 am #

    Love the lines untiltheysticktogether and run across the street. That visual sense of the physical act, just wonderful.

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