joy

summer awakens that joy in me

not the kind

people attempt to attribute to poetry

(go read some poems,

idiots,

go find out that poets

aren't always joyful,

go discover that sadness

is the base of poetry)

but the kind that forms a second heart,

blooms roses, peonies, strangling vines,

break your ribs,

choke you

til you can only gasp

for the lilac-scented air.

it's the kind of joy that presses against you,

pushes harder harder harder

overflowing into your lungs

where golden sunlight dappled through oaks bursting with green

ripples through the cracks,

fills

everything everywhere.

summer awakens that joy in me

the joy that I love,

the joy that threatens to break me open

and let my sunset pastel lavender wonders

fill the world with joy.