Dog Years

Summer a pit bull is deboned in the backyard. Summer a grandmother 
knits me a cap I will never have to wear. Summer drought adjusts to us, 

night beetles erupting like coins. Summer we sit on our hands, competing  
to see who can scrape watermelon rinds white the fastest.  

Summer we’re headless chickens and I plunge from the top bunk in the dark,  
half bleat like a calf sent to slaughter. Summer it’s winter, summer it’s fall.  

Summer we are sad pupils gone sullen in our hard-assed seats. Summer  
I plagiarize Twilight to my boyfriend on Kik, wooing and terrifying him by turns.  

Summer we sugar on border blasters, Prince Royce ripped apart with static.  
Summer we lucky charm the hooded Virgin. Summer we catfish old men  

on eHarmony using a telenovela star’s perfect face. Summer we lose access  
to the internet for an entire year. Summer we read de-needled cactus paddles 

like tablets of stone. Summer we falsify the hillside house terraces with murders
that never happened. Summer Santa Ana winds salon the warm-season weeds.  

Summer we flash our nacre scars like baptism bracelets. Summer mosquitoes  
moon at us. Summer the moon is a mansion on fire. Summer we cow tongue  

summer we jarred ceviche summer we egg cleanse the period cramps away.  
Summer we vacation in beloved liquor stores, uncling at the cash register  

until the uncles who are not our uncles are replaced, meaner than before,  
no discounts for our ice cream sandwiches.  

Summer my boyfriend breaks up with me, after I send him a text that says,  
U are my life now. Summer the summer never ends.