No More Summers

When you wrote 
the bloodhounds
and bandages
into the script
it was a question
of refuting the silence,
of torching
the thread on
the way out
of the labyrinth

They will say
you are a poor excuse
for a wanderer,
that you're still milling about 
the big summer
when you were twelve and
the one when you were thirty-three
and your lawyers will say that
the whole point is to enjoy
where you've been

You'll spend
another season
falling for your captors,
waiting for the storm
to choose a shoulder

Until then
you'll have to believe that
your days are good for something 
other than swallowing you whole


Jason Abbate lives and writes in New York City. His work has been included in publications such as Red Rock Review, The American Journal of Poetry, Black Heart Magazine, Subprimal and pif Magazine. He is the author of Welcome to Xooxville.