(photograph taken by Upanshu Das)
I will remember you this way:
a fossil of summer, in sync with the thrumming
riptides— in wood-chips collecting in clumps
against your shoe.
July claws on skin like erosion:
conjoined sand falling jelly-like
into the caves of my body, softened through the ripples—
I say, clinging to silence:
“Please, come back— I don’t want to forget this hunger
oscillating between us. The syllables of your name palpitating
on my tongue.”
You say, faith-ridden:
“What is there to come back to? Tell me, what memory
still lingers between our bodies?”
And I am still tethered to summer,
still swelling underneath your lips.
Look, I know where the light ricochets
off your cheekbones— I know how my name
slips past your teeth like an itch. I know this: eternity,
pouring through us, and into winter.
Let us begin again. Let us dip our fingers
into hyacinths, fingers pruning, and be sporadic.
-A poem by Jaiden Geolingo
(@geodennn)
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