Summer’s End – Poem by Linnea Cooley

Poem by Linnea Cooley

So this is it, I guess
last kiss, cool lips
there are hundreds of swallows in the trees this year
Officer Harding says it won’t rain til noon, if we’re lucky
the smallest things are the hardest to let go
like my grandmother’s teacup
it broke and my mother cried
big tears, barefoot on the wraparound porch
you let me keep your digital watch
since you won’t need it anyway
why keep track of time
when you can let it slip through your fingers
like the cool mud
by the left side of the lake
silty, underneath the single canoe

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About the Poet

Linnea Cooley is a poet residing in the Washington D.C. area. Her poetry appears in Neologism Poetry Journal, Boston Accent Lit, and Anti-Heroin Chic among others. More of her work can be seen on her website.