i cant tell if i ever write anything new

I am summer incarnate

born of melanin and the 

sweat that collects at the back of your knees

my gills open up underneath chlorine and 

the dead man, watermelon, jacknife

you smell that skunky summer still air?

i am the fresh cut grass and gasoline 

to eat is to be underneath

that Texas sky that opens up and pours 

out everything.

to be made of marble is a curious sort of thingboth soft, and unyieldingthe way the air is less static nowis nothing good to me  

to be made of marble is a curious sort of thing
both soft,
and unyielding
the way the air is less static now
is nothing good to me  

one step softer always
that’s what you said
one step self involved
but how else and what else
all else hurts, is
sin, is metal and ice and burns

—-

i am right there
still standing
survived the brunt of it
because i am, the fittest, the most safe,
the least learned, Darwin in his holiness
could not have seen you coming
like fumigating, like floor finish
you’ve choked me out - i am blue
does it go well with this dress
i am
not enough
for all of the sight of you
but here i am just limping
i’m finding myself slipping
bitter is better; bitter, better for you
that pale as death skin from
scalp to shoulder

so … soft
so sweet i think
if i could only scrape it with my teeth i think
maybe i’d scrape at you too