Minuscule marshmallows in weak cocoa
there is no taste in the heat of the South;
It should always burn the top of the mouth
and be soothed inhaling a ball of snow;
Those worn out carolers will need a jolt
so the hot air doesn’t cause them to faint;
Narcoleptic has become a poor trait,
out of tune voices outside the deadbolt;
Pushing against heat exhaustion is hard;
Asleep on your feet is not a new kink,
always they’re begrudging any such drink;
Left sweating like a melted greeting card.
I feel sick.
Feverish with chronic,
Long standing lung disease.
The governor here
Has mandated everyone
Wear a mask when they go out
In public.
Some people will have to wear it
24/7.
Makes it all that much harder
To breathe.
My name is not George..
My skin is not black ..
Yet how many times will I,
Today
Have to say
"I can't breathe."
I will count
Just for the heck of it.
More than twenty percent
Who die in hospitals,
Die from something they catch
In the hospital.
This is day five of
Mid to upper nineties
Two more days to go.
I have no air conditioning.
Perhaps it is only
Heat exhaustion,
What does it matter
When that is life threatening.
Dust storms in NV last night...
The early morning hours dripped with the heaviness of the atmosphere,
the pseudo breeze simply stirred the stagnant oppression of the air.
On the rose-colored patio blocks just within the edge of overhanging shadows
the furry gray squirrel sprawled out basking with all fours and tail stretched
to the limits of his tiny body panting in the anxious desire of relief.
Though I tapped the glass door he contemplated me reluctantly
yet did not move his position and then he stood up, ruffled his plump feathery tail and slowly tiptoed toward the garden. He slipped in and out the greenery until he found the spot, a small patch of dirt untouched by growth. He scratched and scratched again, then it appeared he had collapsed yet remained alert and awake, He rolled left then right, bringing his hind legs up as if in a fetal position and he kicked and rolled and rolled again until the dirt rose in cloudy puffs.
Then it last he stilled, relaxed and cooled, he lay calm and refreshed for a moment then two then three, ready to take on the day.
Out of water for three days; desert life,
Delirious with heat.
Exhaustion overwhelming!
16 Feb 2015
The restricted heart
shrinks bitter and remote,
punishes the spinal watchtower
with ghosts of tunnel vision.
Keyhole surgery in a dreamy eye,
so acclimatised to nightmares,
dissects each cold memorial
of the lids that cannot shut.
From the slitted earthen throats
flows dew and morning steam,
blood rivers course the wheat
burned black from heat exhaustion.
It isolates the feelings
and prods them with white sticks
and in so rousing
justifies the clear-eyed vision.
Blue porcelain statues reflect
patinas of desperation,
diseased with sunspot black,
the souls of latent atrophy.
What a spiteful lonely view
when gleaned from an ivory basement,
broke love in a dark bone cage
until sorry is all I have.
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