im purging me 

of you 

skin from bone  

and bone from 

soft tatters. 

what’s left of 

pulpy flesh? 

a dragging 

caress like 

road burns 

seared &



like the heat 

when the air 

so thick 

it is 


sweat bleeds 

through the coral 

summer dress.  

– sheila c

the summer of them

i saw the summer coming

from the doorway

i was never the veil type

or the worn type

i prefer the midnight stroll

the glare of biting lights

and the fullness

of too much to eat

too much to share

i know i am limited

fading slowly everyday

window shopping

is tedious

and the orchestrated

sadness of loss

is a waste of time

my words 

hold me 

this is the summer of them

whoever they may be

bless you

as the equinox

sinks in.

-sheila c.