Hot August

Posted: July 23, 2010 in Poetry

Hot August

That salt laden sweet smell of hot August

Ahh . . . miss . . .

Folded entwining mind combining

Heavy eyelids contract to neither wake nor sleep

Almost no blink

It curls down your throat coating breath

With wet smoky air

Without care for the days and weeks

Spent suspended living

Windowless environment

Sheeting rain in a torrent

And thick deep throated thunder

With a smile that slithers

Orange the only color around

All others bow down to bright brown

In these blazing summer days

No other time comes near this taste

Life becomes balanced on a thin line of decay

Beads of succulent persperent

Slowly trickle down your brow

Meandering down to bare naked toes

And ice cold is never more so

Than when hot is hell-bent

The need for clothing becomes tiresome

And all done is sleeping with the light on

© 2010 Charles Harmison

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