Sultry is the Breathless Air
No one lit a match.
no lamp spilled,
the air kept kindling its hot heart,
it pulsed red all day
The heat-heavy evening slumped
toward a simmering earth,
clouds began to roil,
they swirled,
they broiled in a death dance
of fuming dragon tails,
a wounded flickering
that lashed out blindly.
We laid down our souls,
they were too hot to rescue.
We were weary, too numbed
to be either beasts or humans.
When the sun slowly fell,
carving its way
through the dark rims
of fiery hills,
a smelter of sweating rain
cut the strings of our voices
and revived us not.
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