The heat of June reminds me
of the year I spent in the log cabin,
prompting me to buzz my head,
no climate control and hoards of black flies
banging their heads against the windows
begging for release, not unlike myself.

There’s one bathroom, the size of me
with my knees to my chest and 
my feet caressing the damp shower floor,
which never dries because a cold shower,
the only relief from the dried salt on my skin

But the cabin has two spring fawn
who don’t know they should fear me
and when it’s too hot to sleep,
I bring a pillow to the porch and sleep 
under the stained glass sky with
the call of coyotes 
and the company of turkeys.