At Summer’s Crest | Amber Hashmi

at summer’s crest

the sun beats down on its treasury:

the flowers in zeal

and the flesh of fruit that dazes

and numbs you of all but satisfaction. 

at summer’s crest

i like you best

When i reach for you in my memory:

your smiles are real

and there are no awkward places

in speech or embraces.

but this thoughtful abstraction

deep in my chest

makes me a mess

when i think about you and me–

i resent the truth’s treachery,

that you are not real

not the ‘you’ my mind encases

and reveals

like a noon mirage’s attraction

at summer’s crest.