Wheezy mosquitoes wings
as familiar as moonlight
Summer songs are sludgy static;
weeks in a wink—a freak show
frog croaking loud out the window
with washing machine abs. Wise

words are off on summer solstice,
silent like a gassed wasp nest. A
man
manipulating lips on corpses so
they sing sweet, soft
nice
things.

The fighting fish aren’t sucker punching or biting
just bloated & belly-up in filmy stagnant—home

no one should be left alone and
when I’m tan, I know I’m bored
belly-up you can see I’m a lotus
but not on purpose
…