July

There is no milk to be had from this humid churn. The air is obese. A limping obstinacy inflates canyons of heat. The sun throws a leash of blood around our necks. Throats channel the smoke of saxophones. Over the dry prairies a fiery mule pulls the sun. We will burn lanterns, listlessly watch catfish char on bleached docks. We speak to each other as if we were just a sigh at the end of one more solar flare.

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Sheri Kerr

Date: 7/26/2019 4:48:00 PM

I was born in July in Arizona and connect with heat, ha! Love the visual... Over the dry prairies a fiery mule pulls the sun. So now you have two comments!

Eric Ashford
Date: 7/26/2019 6:16:00 PM

Hi Sheri, Arizona is a great state. For instance the Ruger Firearms company, oh and that little Grand Canyon thing! I am thinking it's a dry heat in the desert parts, it's humidity that gets to me (I come from a place that has reasonable weather:-) Glad this worked for you.

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 7/12/2019 8:36:00 AM

I feel the heat.

Eric Ashford
Date: 7/26/2019 6:13:00 PM

Thanks Richard, being originally from a more temperate climate (a soft Brit), even Ohio in July is a hell on earth for me. Actually it's quite nice today :-) Obliged!

Eric Ashford
Date: 7/12/2019 3:30:00 PM

Thanks for being the first (and perhaps last) to comment on the Richard. Personally, I like this poem.