"One Hundred Seven"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So H  O  T,
it hurts to inhale,
lungs
heaving against heat
that builds
and will not relent;
so H  O  T,
you shrivel inside
as
you become one with
the sweat
pudd'ling at your feet;
so H  O  T,
all you can do is
watch
temperatures climb
as well
as electric bills;
so H  O  T,
even ninety  sounds
good ...
one hundred seven
just a
bit ridiculous!!


"Summer"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...ground, brittle; baked to
desication by
the oven once known
by another name:
the sun.
...the grass, returned to
the soil from whence it
came:  scattered ashes
tossed by mourner's palms:
dead seed.
...the air, skeletal
fragments skittering
like stones in the lungs,
devoid of moisture:
dry bones.
this, people is heat:
a shared misery
in my backyard as
well as in your own:
summer.

(c) 2006, Karla Dorman.