boiling hot kettle fullness screams in my ears
paralyzing fevers chill scorched paper-dolls
that ford on slotted feet, back-forth back-forth
across the evanescing asphalt
clockwork cicadas winding down wildly
shake their crazy tambourines on high
no painted kites fly on these kinds of nights
as July rocks her baby, singing, "ashes, ashes,
we all fall down"
words and image by lucy meskill
♥♥♥
ReplyDeletethis is exactly how it felt today (and yesterday and the day before and probably tomorrow too). too hot for words - but you found the ones to express the feeling for sure.
ReplyDelete<3 <3 <3