---

Is it the chill under our feet

Or the noose’s touch that leaves us so aghast

As every stare strikes the gut like vigilantes

With swords and torches

Sunlight

Drab light

And I feel I’m courting spiders

Is this the legend we’ve made for ourselves

Poured death in our grails

Painted portraits of hospital beds, instead

Hold that pose

Everything, you see, is so alright

Everything is summer