this summer I am missing before it is even over / stinging sword in my chest / june’s bright promise dwindled into the loneliness of what is left / what is not enough for me / I want everything I won’t have / I want / a sunlit dream of / running down / gathering up a lover’s spun-silk hair in my hands like anemone / windflowers / I could be good to a lover / I could be good to you / if you were good to me / will you be good to me? / I’d push off the ground in a wild burst of laughter / like I’m flying / flowering / wind carrying my feet into the air / as if I have a chance / as if I’m not trapped / as if I’m talking to you / and not to myself frantically / because / in truth this has been ripped out of me / breath caught in my throat / till everything was all coming out before I could put a halt to any of this / like sand falling through my fingers / in a shower of self / in this merciful desire / in this rueful desperation / saying / begging / to not be alone / I never did learn how to swim. / and that drowning girl in the mirror / full of reassurances that / there’s a fall waiting / an easy turn of the season / twirling from the summer’s stifling heat / brimming with possibility / to / a bright autumn, with red-gold leaves that crunch under my feet / where the trees shed their skin and so do I / a world in which / maybe I’ll finally be like them / or maybe I’ll finally be myself / trial and error / trial and error / again and again / again and again / waiting for someday, one day / and if that day never arrives / and if it seems like it’s every year that I tell myself / next year / then I suppose there’s nothing to do but keep going / there’s always another summer / and another fall, after. / besides / it’s started to rain / a soothing patter against the window frame / and the world is being washed anew.