Ghosts of Summer

by Iyonna Naeomi


here, in the sun,
time stretches so like
half-melted taffy,

soft and gummed
in the sunlight

the small offerings:
leftover popsicle sticks
hot shards of broken glass
the bruised orange sky,
mouth open in
an ageless yawn.

she whistles
 {like cicadas}
through the gaps
in her teeth,

while,

the highways and
interstates, congested
beasts of boredom,
burdened,
(breath,
“/out/in/”)
slow motion.

here,                in the sun,
everything     is half a life
e
everything  is repeated.

Author Bio: Iyonna attends a performing arts school in the south, somewhere, where they avoid doing their physics homework at all costs. When they aren’t trying to take on the spirit of Charles Baudelaire, they’re doing their best to pose as a normal human being.