- Wet July
The buzz of the leaves and the humof the air, summer where the seasonsslip past spring, slow in the heat and stop therewhere locust shells cling to the treesand the spilled chlorophyll quivercloudburst rattling the moringa.No one knows you, howthe tongue clings to a mouth of cottonwhen you try to breach an explanation.No one knows you here, nor thereweather or tear, the cream sodayou sipped through sunburnsand secret lives bared between teethscreeching tires of the trucks that spunwhen daddies grew petulantthrew glass sacrificesto the roads but you knowwhen the sky fades to the shadeof an infancy draped hydrangeathat the rain will drive the mimosas downand the wrens will bathe and flick their wingsstop there, then fly away. [End Page 46]
Elizabeth Estochen is a queer/non-binary writer and editor based in Charleston, South Carolina. Their work has appeared in Emerge Literary Journal, Barren Magazine, Versification Zine, and Dirt Media, and they are a first reader for Ploughshares. Their debut chapbook, For Love, and for Cruelty, was published in January 2020 by WordTech Editions.