MY SUMMER
- May 15
- 2 min read
By Yucheng Tao
The midsummer fire still hangs on /
descending with the dusk /
Squirrels rush / from hollow trunks
shooting me a quick glance /
When I am trying
to pluck out / my drowsy eyes
to peel reality / from my sockets
to return / to a forest dewed with rain
to hide / from the suffocating heat
licking at my bedroom /
the damp walls with their paint peeling /
falling in silence //
A T-shirt clings to my face
— it blinds me /
My eyes still roll beneath
burning under sunlight /
My mind sinks into a desert night
— no water //
I swallow / a forgotten conjuration
hoping the sun’s aftertaste / turns pliant
as cotton soaked in water /
seeping into my pain / as if tossing
— it into a torrent /
Walking along the riverbank
another me wades/ in the dark / like a wolf
howling through / the fire of the molten air /
but like me for now / swaying my head
lifts with force / I see a burning twig
snap in the wind /
then flow toward the pale faces
of friends worn down / the unturning gears
of the ovenish factory /
their salted tears / hovering in the thick air /
as I am
cast out of their sight /
The fleeting heat devours / our friendship
leaving a void space / but that wolf
from verge /
it suddenly plunges into the river
striking its head / against the stones
beneath blood /
piercing the night
piercing the midsummer’s heat
& my head
has a cool breeze
& I step out from my room
& midsummer / at last /
begins to die ///