Slicing Sheen

Without scorching birth the dank long night to repose

To die and reinvigorate would be impossible

So she can’t choke out the sun

Seasonal affective my eager companion

Enthusiastic bed fellow.

So she’ll mock the heat

Luxuriate in indifference

Knowing full well

Her choice of ice embrace is

Without hesitations or bounds

A child of the harvest shirking

The scythe

Although she twists her back

Alone and weightless

Prepared but never satisfied

Summer presses her down onto her back

Uncontrolled heft

Disregarding consent

She reaches fingertips to her open window

Beckoning her dissolution from her sheen

Born one month

And then five decades too soon

September light sears

Pinholes of pain

Not made for life


Until the comfort of cold


Photo credit: Cru Kazmierczak