Corona Chronicle,  Cross-Genre,  Poetry

“ode to summer” by Cheyanne Anderson

every time I go onto my balcony
bare feet on dusty cement
and look down the street
towards the subway
towards the market
towards the road straight to the beach
the air gets a little warmer
and I can feel the spring preparing,
about to pass me by
_
and I hope I’ll make it out in time to buy a new sundress
and a pair of sandals
because summer somehow always catches me by surprise
and by the time I’ve thought to embrace the way humidity sits on skin

there’s a bite in the air and it’s gone again
_
I keep dreaming of ways to catch it
like a firefly in a jar
(only temporary)
so I can see it up close
so I can remember to notice the sweat on the back of my neck
and the proof it serves
that 
I was alive that day
so
 I can skip down sidewalks
so
 I can lie in the park
so
 I can chill another bottle of wine
s
o I can kiss and kiss and kiss
s
o I can forget to put on sunscreen
s
o I can walk until my feet ache
s
o I can embrace the way my hair frizzes from my scalp like a crown
s
o I can fall in love in ways I’m not sure I deserve
s
o I can remember to admire the way the fire hydrant down the street
(
somehow always breaking open)
w
ashes away cigarette butts and receipts and regrets
a
nd makes a babbling brook on Bushwick streets
j
ust until the repairman comes on Monday
j
ust until I can bring myself to open the jar and let it go
a
nd whisper well wishes into the first breeze of autumn

my heart is too big for this bedroom, I think

_
*
_
Cheyenne Anderson is a current student at Pace University, where she is studying theatre in the Pace School of Performing Arts. Originally from Kentucky, she now resides in Brooklyn with her two cats. Her short play, “The Letter,” was a semifinalist in the 2019 Kentucky New Play Series. She is currently a fellow with Pace Storytelling Fellowship for Equity and Inclusion.