Catherine Pierce
[TEXT ID: Probably It Will Be Summer Again
one of these days, and if it is I’ll swim, / bobbing up and down over probably, / it will be summer and my god I’ll say hello / to people who don’t live in my house, / it will be summer and my eyes reluctant after a full day / of refracted ocean light and dolphin-squint, or maybe / library and carousel and everyone’s bright / skirts, bright sunglasses, bright burns and canvas bags, / I’ll rejoin the perpetual chorus of We should, /perpetual chorus of Let’s, my god my best friend’s baby / who’s talking now, my god the bay is still there / and I promise I will be a fool for humans and all / wild proclivities, I will gently turn horseshoe crabs / right-side-up, I will not tell myself Maybe a meteor / or Maybe a phone call or Maybe a sudden shift / in atmosphere, I will remind myself of mouths / moving in ways that are summer and of my skin / casual next to someone else’s skin and the soft / salt smell and haunted house shrieks, and Probably / I will say, Probably I will make myself say, and I will say it / and I will say it until it is who and where, / it is who and where we are. END ID]
