|
Becoming Summer
sugar cane slapped together in bamboo strips. summer is coming.
it's moving & screaming & crying & streaming
towards the small brown girl with cotton ball eyes.
tears in her eyes & cotton ball threads.
she has always wanted to be summer.
she will catch summer like a cloud passing beneath the sun.
she has waited for so many cycles of seasons.
she will spring to life like a crusty insect.
she will sing of time passing over early-formed tablelands
like a new season of buds.
she will flower the barrenness with heavy spring.
but first she must be summer & ripe in the lemon wind. moving nature.
in the distance summer approaches in gusts of sunflower seeds.
she opens her mouth & closes her eyes.
she prepares to taste the warm slapping pieces of clay & dry yellow twigs.
the dust is suddenly upon her in wood clicking cane hoppers.
moving summer. dust fingers madly through her hair in rooted sand particles.
she begins to sway with the feeling of summer she begins to be.
to feel her way among the hollow sweet cane.
her face of fast forming freckles is brown & light in warm summer winds.
she has always wanted this.
she lifts her wood cane arms into the dust of flying ants & flicking cane hoppers
with slapping prickle wings. she is beside herself.
her arms bending into moist wings fast lifting into buzzing
red dust & wind glittering sunlight.
clicking like opening seeds into the fiery orb of summer.
suddenly everything slaps. sugar can slapped together in bamboo strips.
her jewel eyes are linear & crystalline.
she begins to lift her body into the heavy clay throwing winds into the west
of humming mosquitoes & jaw snapping clickers.
she has always wanted to be summer.
to brush along the wheat in clear western skies.
rush away in a dust storm to the dry madness of west.
the butterflies have turned together & have slapped like sticks & have died.
as she flies away into dust with her mouth open
like a great flying ant crushed into a warm ruby. | 
