"On Walking into the Woods after Lights Out at Summer Camp" by Macy Davis

Summer feet speak of cheese grater

paths and the same pair of sandals

calluses peeling into wide skin swaths

I use to floss beer can revelry out

of my teeth, getting drunk on bleeding

gums. What do boys around a bonfire

find more beautiful: My mercenary smile

or the way I swallow their smoke mouthed

jokes and regurgitate as a “total bro”?

Another laugh at the little light weight.

Three drinks in and spinning sorry summersaults

into the lap of the swimming instructor.

Natty Light condensation drips from his

hand onto my hip. Where are the mosquitos

I have been expecting to snack on me

since the first moment I jabbed the

nail of this place into my palm?

Rub dirt into an open wound.