DEMOLISH SUMMER STILL
by george reiner
(a) Like curb drinking, warm & flat, my theology unpicks pavements & crumbles into an ashtray. I almost said punk and the surprise of nudity returns after mourning. (b) Ice breakers ran into touch & touch ran into the moon: a puncture above monuments to finance. They say I am running a way to fill a gap (a common misconception that bodies mustn’t be torus shaped), but (c) how I’m learning to songwrite anew born on my chest. Poetical naivety in the era of possibility. (d) Start my stories again because the rain slow-clapped my decisions. Like curb drinking, I stretched over regret. (e) Matched our favourite songs to the seasons, broke them down to day & night, but every song smelt of summer. (f) This continued for several weeks: the fishnet tying. The poetical naivety. The running. The chest & matches. The running. (g) The more rope you use, the more holes you make. The more net you have. The more (h) I am caught in the phrasing. The more it pulls my hair & neck & thighs &. The more knots my skin ties. The less flat I am.
(i) Originally clutched its diacritic dot in the mourning, but the interest of nipple clamps tore a piece, a way the i returns to shape.
I was running into
a way the wreckage finds still. The stretch reasserts. Iteration down the spine. The felt of break-up sex.
The stories of repair torn
in the era of possibility.
George Reiner is a poet and translator based in London and Birmingham. He was a member of the Birmingham Hippodrome Young Poets and his poetry, translations and reviews can be found in Berfrois, Under a Warm Green Linden, Nowruz Journal and Datableed. He has also contributed texts for project spaces such as IKLECTIK London, ERGO Collective Space, Athens, Balcony, Lisbon, and forthcoming texts for Capela da Boa Viagem, Madeira, and CasaPiena, Sicily.
