daynabhattiroberts.blog

egg yolks crushed by the metal edge of a bent spatula sizzle hot in my stomach under a july sun 

cherries run red in rivulets down my jaw drying like blood in an october man’s indulgence 

salted caramel licks melt on my tongue as splotches drip on to my burnt arms in a hot august 

hot dogs and burgers and fries balance greasily between my fingers as june begins to just spread open the sky  

s’mores mold into the palm of my sticky hand as a guitar strum tells summer to stay just a while longer

perhaps past august, perhaps into september. summer never lingers like the cold 

then, there’s the hunger too, the unbearable heat that i know exists elsewhere because 

where there is pleasure and indulgence there is pain and frugality, two sides of a coin and what not 

like that penny that burnt my hand when I tried to pluck it from the grasp of that summer gravel 

just as surely as I drop a fry into my gaping jaws sprawled in the grass 

with that softer evening sun caressing,

that light that doesn’t quite burn but leaves your cheeks flushed all the same  

i know, i know, somewhere, someone burns and someone’s stomach is not placated 

someone hasn’t filled their days with cherry sours and soft, melting cheeses and stinging drinks 

somewhere is someone I cannot give the gift of summer, and that makes me hungrier than most anything