August


Sweetgrass summer smell
The stripe of pink beneath your eyes
The way your face looks warm even from a distance
Even when it’s summer-night cold
And it only stays hot for three months of the year
And I can only breathe for two of them
— my Benadryl haze makes you look like a watercolor painting
And I’ve never seen art like this before
So I’ll kiss your eyelids and elbows and stroke through your hair because I want to touch it in all the ways that I can
And when spiders creep in through the wide-open window we’ll thank them for taking their shoes off
and as my sunburn starts to peel we’ll gaze delighted at the way my skin curls into tiny translucent roses
before it falls to the floor
Dip my fingers where the sweat pools and recite poetry into the oscillating fan, voice distorted like a villain
Consider the way our bodies suction together like soft sleepy leeches
The way freckles start to show like a secret summer skin
How our laughter hanging in humidity makes everything seem like it’s supposed to.

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