rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Reheated

Breezy afternoon rushed beyond balmy and slid as on grease to slam against a wall of heat. The wreckage is a strew of wrinkled brown leaves the oaks dropped, which crunch underfoot as I return to the shaded porch, the freshly-watered trumpet vine that clings to the back fence blooming madly behind me. On the porch an ant abroad without companions scurries, its quick fits and starts indicating perhaps that it has been driven mad by the concrete's stored heat. The late sun glints from the rooftop's spinning exhaust turbine, and the hum of the air conditioner is a constant background to the cawing of a crow perched in a pine tree. The distant air ripples. I suppose it was too much to expect August to provide two mild days in a row. May summer hurry like the ant, who now vanishes as she reaches the arid brown lawn.



Sunday Verse

The Gifts

by Miltos Sachtouris


Today I wore a
warm red blood
today men love me
a woman smiled at me
a girl gave me a seashell
a boy gave me a hammer

Today I kneel on the sidewalk
and nail the naked white feet of the passers-by
to the pavement tiles
they are all in tears
but no one is frightened
all remain in the places to which I had come in time
they are all in tears
but they gaze at the celestial advertisements
and at a beggar who sells hot cross buns in the sky

Two men whisper
what is he doing nailing our hearts?
yes he is nailing our hearts
well then he is a poet

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