The Salt of Summer

Carly Xagas



What happens

when fate is tangled?



stems twisted,

straining necks,



seeds flying in the breeze,

never to know

what was or could be.



The dew of summer,

of humid underarm and

sticky upper lip—

a locust's buzz,

the burp of a bullfrog.


The freight train passes,

hissing madly,

large and kingly—

roaring, roaring.


Tangled like bramble or burrs

in cat's fur,

tangled fingers in my hair,

the scent of earth the dew

of grass the stars the smog,

the air's so thick.


I'm in the night, the starry night,

the world so heavy

in me, on me,

the weight is large

and kingly, roaring,

and in the distance

a freight train, humming.


Tangling in me

and upon me, the dew

of summer


the salt

the residue.


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