scorching torrid

in the unusual summer’s heat of a day

this air, cloaked in  thick, weighted wools                  melts us hour by hour

for the last 48 or so             we have been mesmerized by discomfort         muddle-headed, we hide out

locked inside   instead of out     refusing the feel of  dante’s world     dancing on our sweaty skins

yet somehow, terribly disoriented by drawn shades separating         wet, sticky humans

recoil from the glare of a faded blue, cloud-emptied sky       hiding instead inside           behind draperies partially closed

brain and senses dulled as gun-metal

we follow the wisdom of  animals         by lying low to the ground     immobilized          we count the fibers of  a too-hot rug  bed

while the purr of the  fans blow from above and from tabletops               their too-hot breath into our flushed faces

these are the dog days of summer       heavy days that have you wishing for

release       for time-travel      to another time and place

dream with me         of a private  island      a body of exquisite cool clear, turquoise waters

to submerge in        naked and refreshed     the  feel of the trades

blowing in for   their three o’ clock          daily dose of relief    while sun diamonds dance

atop gentle, lapping waves

dream with me still      of a day without composing neat litanies and tidy tomes   in the head’s typer       bookmark times of release and relief

from all that weighs              heavy           be it the heat of a day     or the heavy woolen cocoon

of  a life

uncertain

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About lindalou5150

as exercise or exorcism, i write...for the eyes of others, for my eyes and heart only, for the love and the rage, i write...to release the gamut of emotion...to tell the truth and say what's often thought but not written...
This entry was posted in poesy, sonoma county poets. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to scorching torrid

  1. David Garcia says:

    thanks for your poem…this is a good one…hope it cools down…been wondering about you since I haven’t heard from you…I guess you know I called last wk left messages on both phones could only think you were terrible depressed…I understand..the heat can sure do that…sure good to hear you are alive….stay cool and stay writing poems…you have the gift…xd

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