A set of two poems written since entering the Wisconsin summer heat. Right now we’re in the midst of the summer that never came. After a June/July/August of highs of 75, the true summer has arrived with 95 degree September days. I write exclusively sitting under trees on campus with my Nalgene close at hand and run only at dawn and dusk.
let me wrap you
in threads of gold,
sew you up in a silvery cocoon
that glows in the night.
Your bones look cold
and your shoulders bear a weight
I cannot ever share.
let me give you what I can
so I can shrug some of my own burden
off and onto the floor.
thin and reedy
filters like water
then evaporates into so little–
tiny particles lost in translation
of transmitting me
into the universe.
My sound reverberates back into my mouth,
shoved down my throat
and reaches my heart, my core.
Out there, did it reach the stars
the moon, your eyelashes or fingertips?
I can never know.
But now the vibration is nestled inside,
between two blood cells and a molecule of oxygen,
reluctantly at home in me.