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The next evening, cicadas gave testimony in their lazy accent— your Judas kiss from the dugout next to Barb’s Burgers under the periwinkle moon. That empty ball field, a barren beach. Wind blowing red clay waves over third base. The summer air weaving your breaths into a scarf of deceit, your hair in pony tail until he slid the band off, releasing the bundle of buff sea grass down your neck. The kiss, a shy, soft shell crab burying itself in the deep. You’ll say “we need to talk” but no. My heart will drown with the stars you watched fall into the black ocean of last night’s sky with him.
0
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 6:27 PM UTC
Tossed
The next evening, cicadas gave testimony in their lazy accent— your Judas kiss from the dugout next to Barb’s Burgers under the periwinkle moon. That empty ball field, a barren beach. Wind blowing red clay waves over third base. The summer air weaving your breaths into a scarf of deceit, your hair in pony tail until he slid the band off, releasing the bundle of buff sea grass down your neck. The kiss, a shy, soft shell crab burying itself in the deep. You’ll say “we need to talk” but no. My heart will drown with the stars you watched fall into the black ocean of last night’s sky with him.
RickBaldwin
Written by
M/Atlanta
Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 6:27 PM UTC
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