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Summer is over
by Lisa Summe


the heat almost entirely gone
& my grief is performative, 
eroticized. I've kissed more 
women this year than any other
but it's been 11 months 
since I've gotten laid. 
Autocorrect does it again: 
had sex to sad sex. 
Virgo rising, I keep
lists. The Post-its at my desk 
the most organized chaos. 
When I tell my therapist I feel better,
it’s true, despite my parents'
pending divorce. My mother 
changes her mind. 
Now they are going to Florida. 
It's not up to me. 
It's her birthday today 
& when I call her the first thing I say 
is I love you mom. She asks 
about love & I ask have you
seen the moon. I love someone 
for the first time in years. 
She sent me a pic last night
of her hands before she got to the kiln, 
her nails so clean, translucent 
pink candy I want to taste 
& newly trimmed short, 
before they go deep in the clay,
so as not to ruin the smoothness 
of smoothness before the bowl she fashions 
is launched into heat. I picture her
hands on me, so many ways 
to ruin something: fire, fire, fire.

Picture
Lisa Summe is the author of Say It Hurts (YesYes Books, December 2020). She earned a BA and MA in literature at the University of Cincinnati and an MFA in poetry from Virginia Tech. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Cincinnati Review, Salt Hill, Waxwing, Vinyl, and elsewhere. You can find her running, playing baseball, or eating vegan pastries in Pittsburgh, PA, on Twitter and Instagram @lisasumme, and at lisasumme.com.

More from Lisa Summe...
Spring 2020
ISSN 2157-8079
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