summer vacation and the demon lover
by Cabell

In summer when the air lies dead, we slide
against each other, alive in sweat, aflame
against the sheets and heavy curtains that hide
us from ourselves--as if things stayed the same,

as if I loved you still. I love your fingers
like flowers blooming on me, up me, through
me--slither of your fevered skin that lingers
when you’re gone, though the sheets still smell of you,

and your shadow loiters heavy in all the cracks
that splinter at the edges of the world. You’re gone
but were you ever really here? You don’t leave tracks
like real boys. The night burns slowly into dawn:

another day, another ghostly high school fuck?
Good enough. I’ve learned not to press my luck.

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