Summer’s End
Poem
Somersaults in overalls
Tastes like summer
Rock salt on your Birkenstocks
As the birds revolve
I can’t help but hum along and wonder
I’m pushing twice as hard
Barely moved at all
The clouds flawlessly thunder
Autumnal leaves evolve
As the gravity in me resolves
I’m so appalled to see
How easy all of this is sixteen feet under
And so, I tried to listen to the morning, not hear it
My spirit was clear, it
Tried, shined and glistened without warning
But I fear it
Just needed a reason
Go ahead already and quit
In Saint Regret’s bed again
We sit alone sometimes
Release it, release it
We sit alone, sick, and moan
That we’ve no place to go
We are pieces inside a (w)hole
It seems that we have lost control
So pack your fleeces.
more by SANDY DODGE
photograph by Kimberly Mears
