Blackberry winter, they call it
riding in on the backs of the long, hot days of early summer
creeping up your arms and legs
like ticks
to suck the life from you
and the breeze is a violent embrace, and the moon is pale
and thin
and the light from the stars is always an illusion
but it’s uglier, more obvious tonight
Underfoot, the grass is sharp
and stings your nose with mint
and the chill crawls through your veins
like Valium. 
