Summer is No Longer the Space Between Your Hands

Seth Canner


In a house of words there is a table. On it,
            summer’s sweet continuous skin folded to aphasia;
            the cherries
swelling ripe beneath our skins pinned
                            to the mirror like a postcard: in the

picture: a town with no name,
                            a barn of faded red paint. Near the barn,
                                         I part cornstalks, pick milkweed by the river  
                                                       bend and bury them between

the ribs of a black mare. Inside the barn, an apiary of hummingbirds
                  waits for harvest like the cool flicker of adolescence
         craves gasoline. The current of a river sits:

                                                                                    an afterimage
                                                                                    of the space you haven’t been in years.


Seth Canner attends the University of Greenwich where he is Managing Editor of Projector Magazine. His work has appeared in Ariel Chart, Lit.cat, and Noble/Gas Qtrly.