Thursday, May 20, 2010

Make-Up #1

I believe I owe you 4 poems for flaking out at the end of National Poetry Month. Here's one:

A distant fire engine siren,
drawling lazily,
echoes the carpenter bees
hovering, droning
by back yard pools
waiting for rare, languid splashes
from sticky, popcicle-painted kids.
Breathless, oppressive air binds,
blinding, unbending,
thick and wet and hot
like a bathroom
after a long shower.
Even a long rain wouldn't change this,
only leaving more steam
and sulphur-colored heat
in its wake.

1 comment:

septembermom said...

Awesome "make up." Love the pace and imagery, bel. Great last line with sulphur-colored heat.

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