beacons

the moon is burnt
settling low in the sky
among tree shadows

riding along old gravel roads
worn into the earth
the light of fireflies becomes long
dashes of green
trailing along lines of corn
my hand to the car window
tracing my fingers after them

pausing long enough to tumble out of the car
stopping standing still
air shimmering
hands outstretched
through the muggy summer air
fireflies sparking

the sky glitters

all around
campfires blaze and settle
beer passed in a circle
porch lights flicker on and off
calling us home

could you feel the dust of my dreams?

strange to think
that after years
you
were the one
to sleep in my childhood bed
 the weight of my bones
creating
the hollow
 you so easily fell into

heat

it was
the hottest day of the summer
unsurprising
as it was the first day of the summer

watching the arctic animals cowering
tucked in shaded buildings
shedding, sweating
the camels sneering slightly

wandering around
to peer through glass and bars
my hand trapped by yours
held in
by your hand on my back

the heat between us
tangible
touchable
the heat in your eyes
all was golden

hot
and baited

planting

dirt under my fingernails
cut short
and torn

speckled with earth
all up my arm

rows of plants
carefully lined up
clearing other plants
that are carelessly discarded
who chooses?

we are rearranging the ground
under our feet

and the dirt
caked on my body

i am planting myself
to prove
i am just like them