Allison Morris # 1 'July'

Do you recall the smell
of cold showers - brilliant
as diamonds, and white?
Sticky-sweet nectarines in French paper,
and Seine-burn, pink as
strawberry-stained custard.
Painted glass days of small triumphs-
when sunlight, like liquid,
spilled carelessly down St Honore,
soaking into warm sandstone and knotted iron
and turning gilded guardians to fire.