The heat has fingers.
It takes you by the throat.
It shakes you like a dog
Worrying a rat,
And leaves you broken, gasping,
In the puddle of yourself.
But there are ways out.
Water is a great savior.
So, of course, is air conditioning,
In a restaurant or a movie theater,
Though inexplicably, some people’s houses
Are simply surrendered to the heat.
And then there’s night,
The refuge of the watchful,
When time slows, the air cools, and light
Is scattered into a million pinpricks,
Each one as bright
As a miniature sun.
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