i’m a mess these days
and these days are melting away
like candles on the back porch
in the heat of july
it’s only june still
i’ve leaped ahead of myself
i’ve made notes and revised
and welcomed the crippling fear a few weeks early
it comes with perks, the subconscious montage,
it comes with the tune for a morbid little lullaby :
who will die, who will die in july
father, step father, friend, feline?
who will die, die and die,
somber, arid july?