the epicenter of summer
seems to be lost

how, not so long ago,
we’d eat fruit on our front
porch—-a clear, glass bowl
filled with watermelon, strawberries,
cantaloupe, peaches, & pears—-delighting
in the sweetness as our fingers
became more & more sticky

& wasn’t it last summer
that we sipped iced tea
under our back gazebo—-
oh yes, & we talked about
our sadness & your leaving

my mind is haunted
at the image of you
waking up nude
on a stranger’s chest,
bloodied & bruised

our lives are wrecked by tragedy
& now we fill ourselves
with the mortal love
of one-night-stands

& i eat bruised strawberries
straight from the container
all by myself