Writing a Poem on a Torrid Afternoon - Aug. 25, 2022

let me catch my breath remove my shirt blot the sweat with it hear the cubes clink in the glass liquify in the juice and with that most delicate sound of a cushion-crush under my fanny relax it’s Sunday July 17 2:30 pm and you’re caught up to the moment my pen like the dragonfly on a sunny pond touches its abdomen onto the bright page double triple dips laying lyrics here and there and to think

with luck

one will hatch

with an insatiable

hunger to grow