yes she comes on tonight

bare orange

and full of tears

you may die

but it’s all the same really

another summer in the city

and isn’t that what we’re all here for

anyways

 

atlanta.

when we say we love her,

we mean we love what she does to us

because she can be kind when she wants to

but more often than not

we’re the child in the doorway

frightened by the storm

and finding her bed empty

 

our mother

she has locked us out tonight

so we are loosed upon the dirt

into the street

into all it holds and hides

howling at stoplights

biting at the eyelets of bare ankles

sniffing for the marrow of the thing

 

the heat of the day

sloughs into the crying dark

red to its bones, a heavy hot wind

rolling itself through screen doors

the rind of the thing is bitter

and half-eaten

tossed to decay on the curb

 

dissolve and separate

the last summer night will take you in

and you will find yourself unraveled too

like us the wild dogs

howling along at stoplights

biting at ankles

just wait

she will have you

 

yes

 

she will ll have you, too

and a dark fog will pass through the pines

and we will wallow into morning