Summer Place

Hot thick fog off the coast seeps into the family

Summering there and the members become

Unstable like swollen insects filled with blood not their own.

The bitter savors the sweet.

The halls echo a time you want to bring back.

There are photographs of a family

On the mantle and no one knows them.

The day is measured in bird calls and

The cries of children

Tired from freedom

The house echoes into itself

Becoming a memory already.

Lying on your bed

Smell of starch and old sweet joy

 Voices like patterns of Mozart or maybe

Cold Play but it is so very hot

Nothing moves.

Weightless