Green
by Sarah Thomas
Seedless, white rind summer.
Clear summer. Minty green sheen and gorgeous glass floor summer.
White waves breaking with no sound summer.
What if fish swam beneath our feet in this ice rink summer and we could see them?
Snow glass summer. Easy to forget and miss summer. Warm grass, lime juice accidentally dripping onto my knees summer. Ice cold cucumber with just a little vinegar and pepper summer.
The park is packed with blankets and books this summer.
Kissing you right before it’s too dark to see anymore summer.
Absent summer. This should have been the winter of our lives summer but here we are in the sun and making the best of this summer.
Black and white film summer. Silent summer. The rain makes no difference to me kind of summer.
Spearmint chewing gum won't you let me have some of that last piece summer. White beaded braids summer. Neckroll summer. Girl, you betta fix yo’ face when you talkin’ to me summer. Ham-fisted summer. Hands on hips in aloe vera green dresses summer.
My momma’s summer.
Go tell granddaddy and ‘nem come on in type of summer.
Rolling my own cigarettes summer. Sunburnt brown skin in the back of this tank top summer. Sandal slappin’ summer. Fried green tomatoes on VHS summer.
Don’t even have two dimes to rub together kind of summer.
Elastic over my ears summer. White claw summer. Letting bare toes burn on the sidewalk to see how long you can take it summer.
Seeing how long you can take it, summer.
Seeing how long.
Sarah (she/her) is a Black, queer writer in Chicago. Her work mainly focuses on Black sexuality and it's history. Her poetry often explores themes of longing and nostalgia.