Work Text:
Green leaves in the City Park
light filtering through the canopy
the last breath of summer.
Rosé sipped from a paper cup
The prickly grass scratching our bare thighs
Your lips—pink curve of Cupid's bow
and the little sharp teeth beneath.
I want to take you into my mouth
and taste you overripe and
salty-sweet
bursting with our love’s fruition.
Summer lover,
I will drink and drink from your font.
I will cup you in my hand.
I will breathe you in, devour you,
Consume every succulent morsel before
September's here:
melancholy of dark nights,
eruption of fungi and fallen leaves,
and purple haze mornings,
and dew wet against the ankles.