and then the summer is gone
and I am walking down the avenue
three years four years
later
underdressed
heckled by the men
hawking molded fruit at a discount
strawberries peaches
I cannot blame them
what’s a woman like you doing
all alone I force a laugh
they don’t know
I cursed the sun out
the week before you left
again when I was choking
on the smog I cursed the sun
for lowering
leaving obscuring
our proportions
for shedding light
on the uncertainty of all we think
we know they don’t know
I cursed the sun
for coming back
without your shadow
and all the answers
as to why mine shifts
alone I already know
I could never know
satisfaction with its heat
or its distance
I take the blame
take the berries
pay the dollar fifty
and take the sopping little bag
I’d lie and say I tried
to share with you

Stephanie Kaylor is the author of ASK A SEX WORKER! (CLASH Books, 2024) and a recipient of fellowships from the Virginia Center for Creative Arts and UC Santa Barbara, where they are currently completing their PhD in Feminist Studies. They live in Brooklyn.