Doesn't summer feel hostile?

Your hot skin drips honey
that wastes into the pavement

It feels raw

Naked bodies
bathing sweetly in a sensuous river
Tired books in the hands
of holy women

Thinking all morning
about sweet peaches
And all night
about salvation

The black locust bloomed the day you left
It's sweetness will replace yours
The honeybees will find me

Am I supposed to write about  
How I feel you biting at my ankles while I sleep
How I’m having dreams again
but my cynicism is tearing them to shreds
How I spent all day labouring over
my own softness
and tying each strand of my hair to
lace curtains

Am I supposed to feel like blossoming?

Oh bring her back
Oh dew and robins
Early morn, tasting wild lettuce
dreaming of sweet lips
dreaming of wholeness

Oh she’s coming back
Oh open eyes
Afternoon, crying youth
dreaming of right here

Here I am in almost twilight
all day this hot sun through
soft curtains
and my own skin
Picking this mind for mindfulness
and my own tangled art
my own tangled heart

We reach for the same sky

It is not pretty anymore
I have no pasture
no sweet annie
or cider apples

I miss the nights on Myrtle Ave
always wine/music/friends
and Arlo’s playing guitar
and Brendan’s picking his mandolin
Zach’s holding my hand, we were crying in my bed earlier
but you
had wool and gold draped all over
drinking Italian prosecco
eating berries off your fingers
curled your hands over like a rabbit
tiptoed toward me
"drunk hands and sneaky feet”

Hey, that's just a memory now
Tonight there are no more
gimlets/dumpster food/hand carved spoons
it is cold toes/empty bed/hollow stare
I would trade this safety
for that love, wholeheartedly

Yeah, I feel like ****
And I’m walking with her and
she is so pure
in love and beauty
and yeah she’s talking
and I should be listening
but this park has flowers
and now all I’m thinking is
Nigella
Nigella
Nigella, where did I ever learn that?