the kitchen is hot today
wet with sunlight
blood heavy
slippery and yellow
outside, flies are
driven mad with heat
they circle
like they did in Jericho
light hits the car’s roof
blurs like swept up chalk
and hisses
muttering a febrile rosary
today it made me laugh
to think you once said to me
poor baby
there’s no living in poetry
ataraxicat 