Down Where the Summer Went Deep Emma Bolden

Down where the Summer went Deep

Lily-livered, lace-drawn, all August the cruel evangelism of humidity.

For every what I was supposed to feel were a thousand I wasn’t & so

I felt none & nothing. Every lawn sweated out its greens, suffering

through the azaleas. I could not be tempted by the fire of a thousand flowers insisting

on the bloom that brings on their own ends. I kept in my cools, kept my legs saying one

word to each other, which was both close & close. Sister, I know you. I am you. Tell

me, can you be sure every branch has a tree to which it belongs, can you tell me the answer

to the owl’s song is anything but yes. Let a little holy inside the space between living & alone.

Snack By Karen Eisele