Today's poem is by Andrea Jurjević

Summer's End
       

This morning the light wears its finest colors
of diminishment, riding against electric-blue
streaks of roadside thistle and violet sky. Such
citizenry of in-betweenness. Like when you'd
take Mama, Iva and me to the nudist beach,
we'd sink a fat watermelon into the cold
underbelly of the sea and for hours busied
ourselves turning into fish, sipping the sun,
Mama perched on a rock, thighs pockmarked,
your tan finger tracing her long collarbone—
Maria! you’d call her, then in a spiral head-first

dive blast the billowing silver waves, where Iva
and I, your two swift torpedoes, still practice
launching our bodies, and you keep swimming.

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Copyright © 2024 Andrea Jurjević All rights reserved
from In Another Country
Saturnalia Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission