In the Summer, Mississippi
You hate everyone the same.
That sweet sigh evening once pressed against my lips
has now turned to Your night
filled with the electricity of insects screaming for relief.
I’m no longer afraid, Mississippi
I have a lived a summer in Your city.
I have stood by Your Great River
past the kudzu strangled growth
waiting, watching, as Your water collected.
You see, Mississippi,
Your voice, is now my voice
is now rolling, falling puddles under cicada spiral legs.
We have become familiar, Mississippi.
When I lie down Your heat creeps over my body
and I am left like Your other creatures
pressing against You
begging for reprieve.