Heat

 

HEAT

Heat eats time. Heat sits, placid 

monster, pale and bloated,

a vapid balloon across the land,

filling its maw with hours, 

ambitions, appetites,  joys.

It knocks birds from the sky,

cats from their windowsills.

Gardens sprout thermophilic

weeds and nobody cares.

No one can swim in the lake scum.

All the fans have broken.

 

Fighting is futile.

any knight who dares apprach

falls stuporous and weighted down.

 

Remember the cold?

Once upon a time 

it stretched its fine boned hands

over us, and what did we do then 

but whine?

Never again, we cry. 

O never again will we complain 

of its kind and gentle blue-frost smile.

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4 comments on “Heat

  1. Maggie says:

    Oh my heart! I cried … I laughed … I will continue to laugh because you know … you *know* we *will* not remember this heatHeatHEAT come January.

    • Oh yeah. I was even saying, waaaayyy back in the chilly wet days of June, “Pretty soon we’ll be complaining about the heat.” Complaining about weather is a Human Right, I think.

      >

  2. Linda Shere says:

    best ever description of heat. wow mary

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

  3. Christine Lee Moore says:

    I see you don’t like hot days any more than I do. But you express it so much more eloquently.

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