summer, like a nosebleed

there are children in the public pools
& the public pools smell

like urine. the sun touches them,
colors the air thick

& yellow. mornings begin
with a symphony of birdsong, sirens

rolling. evenings hum
with air conditioners

& fucking couples.
the crow’s nests downtown

shine with tinsel, lost cuff links,
the whole city’s stolen

watches. the sidewalk glitters
with so much glass

you could be forgiven
for calling it stars.

Patrick Kindig is the author of two chapbooks, Dry Spell (Porkbelly Press 2016) and all the catholic gods (Seven Kitchens Press, forthcoming), and his poems have recently appeared in The Journal, Meridian, Third Coast, Columbia Poetry Review, and other journals.