The air is heavy on my lungs
the mercury high in its glazing,
white heat frightens,platinum not gold,
where once was warmth,cruel shaft,
pierced tree and cotton hat.
The bird bath beside the wilting rose dry,
its tide marks whitening crystals.
I walk slow to ease my limbs
soon seek shelter in the arch
throw off my clothes,no one here to see
an afternoon of sweat and drink
my hair limp,not a muscle 'wake
sagging in the chair
its plastic wet,unpleasant.
even in the pond the sedges limp
birds panting in the ivy.
Six hours to dark and humid night
reach for the rose,soft and nectar laden
kiss her petals hear her whispered promise
suck sweet and slow buried deep in sepal green
and dream of evening's silken robes.