blood / summer by sheng kao

​june bugs cracking open. basil weep and wilt. late night illuminated by fake suns, sticky air, water hanging over us like thick film, glow & smoke. the sun set and set and set and never left.
 
under the moon, saw a fish drained. covered in butterflies. so sweet in death. so full of cold water. mouth leaking. finally after life the body tries to save itself.
 
three fireflies & soft flesh falling off the pit. all tender things i couldn’t catch. the air is supersaturated, threatening rain and birdsong. the wavelength of a cicadas scream is now palpable. see that redshift wail in between the trees? 

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Sheng Kao is 20 years old and studies Biology at Oberlin College. Her work has previously appeared in publications such as Noble / Gas Qtrly, Vagabond City Lit, Apogee Journal, and OCCULUM. ​