mercredi 7 septembre 2016

Heat

It’s ten the bells say, but my eyes will not open.
Sluggish, lugubrious steps
Not ‘slow’;
that is too fast for me.   Leeeeentemeeeeent
Lentement.
Lendemain?
The fly happy in his 40C state
dances around my giant
Bulbous grave of a head.
His
   blood
     speeds.
Mine thickens like wet rolled tar in July.
A frog whose heart beat in Winter
Can only beat once.
Must conserve.

Must get through.

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