Jessica Anne
Robinson

            see how my fingertips peer through this middle?

            see how these hands held a bee’s breath,

            his hair lock and mine, see how all my mirrors are

            reflecting the sky and i can only see myself in the

            green glass, see me blink back these memories

            like a loose lash, we light something old and

            remember it differently, curtain call for these girls i was,

            these hopeful heartened girls, who see summer sky and

            know endings, the kind that start over immediately,

            so quick you could miss it but no, it’s captured

            in the bottom of this glass and you see it,

            you see it, me lingering at the bottom of the glass,

            me that can’t believe summer is again already over.