Stale Summer: Relief

Stubs of straw spurt into a beige mat. Plants wither, reaching up a fence, roots pulled. The breeze is plush and cool. Eyes blur, and heatwaves wiggle. Flying low, a darnerfly assesses the damage. Undulations circulate through leaves and branches. As muscles relax into the evening, a soreness is noticed, sinking into a demi-relief, that is somehow better. There’s a purr from the traffic. Empty, pensive thoughts circulate with deep breaths. Oxygen tastes like ripe melon.

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Hey, if I could get your help for a moment.

I wanted to start making some Zines. Are there any poems you guys think I should see about using?

I could even use one of you guys’ if you’d like. Would prefer using my own, just ’cause I know it better.

Would be super grateful for your input. : )

-Paro