Lauren Camp

Summer on Summer on Summer

Sun dedicates to its same heat. Unjacketed, hypnotizing. Soil burrows in with stubborn roots. In these whitest hours, motorcycles mutter then pour down the freeway, lamenting incomplete eruptable sputters. Ravens drop to visit the fat that ends up in the clearing. Sun tightens fistfuls to their wings. The man two doors down would be shooting his gun now. Under the elm, or beside it. As far as next Wednesday. We tureen small silver waterings to cajole ecstatic occurrences. The air thickens to insects in a crush of unweaving. Cotton pods, red seeds, rabbits diet on idle grasses. Once again the trees have come back flat-fingered. Strappy sandals, keyless accompaniment. Peaches with their precise curves. Slender boats of stillness. Let the night be night of fan current, suture, the cast-off gifts of lizards making slippery ripples in navigable grasses. Coyotes strut and compete, pissing through the coaxed garden. We smell the clouds laid empty of possessions. Passing, passing. Knee to knee, parallel, our desperate intimate skin eating the air.

In our dream band, on frame drum:

Lauren Camp is the author of five books, most recently Took House (Tupelo Press), Her poems have appeared in Witness, Poet Lore, The Night Heron Barks, Prairie Schooner and Tar River Poetry. Honors include the Dorset Prize and finalist citations for the Arab American Book Award and the North American Book Award. Her poems have been translated into Mandarin, Turkish, Spanish, and Arabic.

Bendir (frame drum) late 19th century

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