Thank God it is still July when the bright underside of the leaf
outshines the topside.
The cats languish, perhaps they sweat
their whiskers protrude with some grave purpose
impossible for us to know.
The breeze plays off your shoulder and all the sadness you’ve ever known
dies in the heat.
Come friend, let’s go to the same table and eat the same food
even though I do not know you.
The figs are almost in season, but then it will be August.
Gloria Monaghan is a Professor of Humanities at Wentworth Institute in Boston. She has three books of poetry, Flawed (Finishing Line Press, 2011), The Garden (Flutter Press 2015), and False Spring (Adelaide Books, 2018). Her poems have appeared in Blue Max Review, 2River, Adelaide, Aurorean, Aries, among others. She currently lives on the South Shore of Boston with her daughters.