I kiss the summer, her gold neck
hung as a crescent in my hand. But
I am false; when night descends,
I dream of winter and her snowy bends.
I walk with summer by the sea,
touch her pale lily, brush her full leaf;
but night lays the cloak, and I dream
of bitter winter, her cold, her bareness,
her frostbitten, chilly lips masticating,
stealing all the breath from me.
First published on Poet’s Corner July 21, 2016