sticky summer

a poem that drifts lazily like a cloud

i like the sun but that’s about it; perfume only draws the wasps in, trap of sugar that pulls magnetic and hot like tar

plump peach hanging with honey infusions

summer haze is a heatstroke; a stroke of heat that blurs memories is lazy

sweat could fill up a jar faster than syrup, syrup from the plump peach hanging

heavy and lethargic and plump with honey

the peaches are the same color as summer, sticky and coral

golden under sunlight

their branches are tanned like splaying limbs basking on the beach

and once the sun sets the heat is a fever

summer nights are hot and summer dreams are furtive figments of mischievous reverie