i. I scratched at my ankle:
we were on the porch in the daytime
3:00 in the oven of a June afternoon

The sky blazed blue overhead
air thick in my mouth

I watched the sweat


down the v-neck collar of your shirt
green from years of mowing the lawn

your sweat spoke
said: I love you
but I cannot touch you
for it is just too damn hot

I agreed
& watched us fry
my own skin turning red
under the uncurious sun

ii. The sun fell off the other side
of the mountain around 8:30
leaving an echo of dusty light around us

The sweat from your glass of sweet tea
settled in a ring on the wire-woven table
still sluggish and slow in the halo of the dusk

Bug-bitten & love stricken was I!
sucking on the marrow of this moment
this stillness
this holy
like a starved dog

I wanted to swim through the damp chasm
splitting the space between our bodies
land in your lap

but I didn’t

I watched your eyes close:
lids sunpinked even through the half-dark.