"What's the world for you if you can't make it up the way you want."

-Jazz, Toni Morrison


alt-summer

alt-summer

our four bare feet would warm to burning
on the cement alongside the garden,

you’d reach your palm under a ripe tomato
and I’d know you were asking permission.

I’d tuck a marigold behind your ear,
say nothing when it starts to wilt.

(every dream of you is like this,
sneaky and saccharine-edged.)

you would refuse to eat cotton candy with me
but you’d like how the sugar hits my lips.

I’d tuck my fingers at the nape of your neck
and pull. I’d imagine the scent of your skin.
I would find out.


Ellen Fee graduated from the University of Minnesota and lives in St. Paul. She coordinates creative writing programming at a nonprofit focused on creativity and storytelling. Her work has previously appeared in Corbel Stone Press, Apeiron Review, and the Tower. Twitter: @ellenkfee, Instagram: @ellenkfee

Cover photo by Daoudi Aissa on Unsplash

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