Summer Heat

Summer Heat Morning melts and dribbles through the blinds, where it rests in molten puddles on the floor If you are very still, you can hear the tap...tap of its fingers as it tries to seep under the door Hide anywhere you want to... go ahead and find a place Count to one hundred, hands over eyes Childish giggles bubble from your lips, but it will find you, no matter your disguise Afternoon is a pyroclastic lava flow, devouring each bit of flesh, sucking the breath from each laboring lung, melting flesh into tallow for the candles of night, to be lit upon the sacrificial altar of your tongue