Summertime

I’d like to go wherever the cold goes.

I’d like to follow it there

and to shiver and to shake

alone for months

and to enjoy

my pain.

 

I’d like to imagine my time

with the cold,

with the lacking

and the freedom—

and the texture

and the pattern

of absence—

 

I’d like to think

I’d make a tiny,

white burning ball

in which to bury myself

in a heat I’d love instead

and that would love

me back.

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About maxwellj

I am a writer of speculative fiction living in Brooklyn, New York, though formally a resident of Portland. I also write literary fiction, poetry, and songs, plus I do a mean Pilot Pen doodle. I'm excited to be a part of Ax Handle, and the chance it provides for people to share their work.
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10 Responses to Summertime

  1. Editor says:

    I like it!

    -A

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  3. gnarlyoak says:

    This is so metal. I love this, actually. I want to hit like a thousand times. “and the texture

    and the pattern

    of absence—”

    Rung in my head like a gunshot.

  4. 2zpoint says:

    Great I’ll send you my coat while I head for some place warmer! LOL!
    All kidding aside…
    That kind of description describes immense pain and yearning so deep for love that it is almost beyond comprehension to be willing to endure so much just to get something to love you back. It almost implies that something you love doesn’t love you and nothing else is good enough.
    These are just my reactions to your powerful emotions. Some of the most powerful emotions I have read. I hope that it is fiction. Peace be with you.

  5. Jingle says:

    wow.
    your longing for cold place is valid here.
    love your imagination here.
    well done!

  6. very nice syncopation of heat to deep freeze….

  7. Sam373 says:

    Your Poetry is apparent! I prefer the mystery when in doubt.

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