Summer Solitaire

Summer is stranger
than a solstice on Saturn
or placebo-perceived patterns
caught in wireless routers
like Egyptian Pharoah doubters
stolen from their sheets
and tucked into beds of clay

I have no place of way
a sharp dark for to me   to stay
The stars are angry by day
our Sun is suicidal – in scalding decay
There is nothing for me to say
for salt and sweat
or minor regret
that tilt and expect
a hope of soul-sick-
ness, a little less thickness
on a starving rib
of love and disgrace;
Lover, lover,
do not show your face


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