Summer of rage, summer of hate,
of sizzling, boiling, overflowing vitriol,
of words like acid that burn through facades,
expose the bitter, twisted fury beneath,
words like poison that spawn more poison
to spill out and sicken the world

Summer of rage, summer of violence,
of spitting bullets that spray through nightclubs,
of quick-trigger ****** fueled by fear and mistrust,
of suicide bombs in Baghdad, in Brussels,
in Kabul and Istanbul, in Ansbach and on and on,
of trucks turned to tanks to flatten and crush,
of mass death so frequent it becomes mundane

Summer of rage, summer of anxiety,
of unease too deep for Xanax to touch,
a soul-rooted fear that grows to panic
at the antics of the blank-eyed, raving
puppet master, or puppet, puffed up
by our burning hate, our endless violence,
our fear of the other
as we sweat through the heat
as we wait for the fall
as we wait for it all to end