By Victoria Belway, Contributor
For July, from September
You were my whole summer,
although I never saw you, never even heard your voice
you were in everything I touched;
The burning of the metal car door,
The gravel clutching the
flesh on my knees,
The one day it rained in august,
You were heavy
hitting my shoulders
tapping each ripple in my spine.
Your daylight just suffocates me
And your nights slither around, silky one moment
icy the next
But I have learnt you to the point where I know nothing else
I have learnt to fall asleep like goose bumps in a fire.
