water through new polyurethane
smells like childhood summers,
the cool water through
the electric green garden hose
after a sweaty bike ride
through the topography
of my fall-line neighborhood,
pick-up backyard ballgames,
letting the hot water,
sun-warmed inside the coils
run out into the pinestraw
of the flowerbeds--
else the hot metal sears a lip
waiting for the cool splash
into the mouth and down the throat
swallowing summer
in cold, delicious
mouthfuls.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
Intrusive rhyme bothers me, except as a weapon.
Intertextuality is my passion.
Formalist/ New Critical are my guiding theories.
My words are mine, not a robot’s.
MA English literature, CofC
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