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That Rip of Skin
That signals sun smears
broils upper skin
I should move
but eyelid strength
defeat the rising
sizzle grass whips the back of knees
Ants bow head
in praise of shadow
and butterfly melts
to swooning plant
Too hot
Too many
silly balls
to say
silk licks it lips
on satin skin
and breath feels newly taught
where muscle pulls towards
the echoes of the heated breeze
A drink so close
to tamber a slight of thirst
but a stretch too much
too much
sun
-Tamber is made up but i like the sound
Copyright ©
Christopher Quigley
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