Leaving the page of the book carelessly open

like a great resting jellyfish

praising the mortal error,

he has a strong New York accent.

I see the boys of summer in their ruin

the death we drank to

with two children, two meteors

a large poster of the Beastie Boys

in the midst of their conversation.

He is chewing on a big wet cigar—

the room is extremely quiet

our voices falling back behind us.

RAPID CUT TO BLACK

and blood jumps in the sun—

even then I have nothing against life

with a one-colored calm.

Though lovers be lost love shall not—

the glimmering creatures are full of lies

(How do you know?)

The bird wants to be dropped

and I will salt it and eat it.

Eating a peach and drinking his 40oz. beer,

you gotta be careful. Now

packed with kids holding flashlights and sucking on pacifiers

(“Fucking good skunk!”)—

elegy of innocence and youth:

more laughter from the group.

Under the windings of the sea

it is June. I am tired of being brave.

I have forgotten all the rest—

this is the world. Have faith.

Zebulon Huset is a teacher, writer and photographer. He won the Gulf Stream 2020 Summer Poetry Contest and his writing has appeared in Best New Poets, Meridian, Rattle, The Southern Review, Fence, and Atlanta Review among others. He also publishes the writing prompt blog Notebooking Daily, and edits the literary journal Coastal Shelf.