Heat Map

[TranquillityBase]

The long march
of the sun begins in birdsong

into the utter heat
of a 100 degree afternoon.

Sun twists day like a licorice stick.

Grass withers,
smell of thirst rising from the earth.

On the border
asphalt’s crop of black fever ascends.

Ants dismember
a dead moth down to its wings.

Blue sky halts
for its hours to gather into fire.

The sun swallows the horizon,
exhaustion spills into wounded pools of shadow,
triaged by locusts singing into dark.

v. 2
The long march

of the sun begins in birdsong



into the utter heat

of a 100 degree afternoon.



Sun twists day like a licorice stick.



Grass withers,

smell of thirst rising from the earth.



On the border

asphalt’s crop of black fever ascends.



Ants dismember

a dead moth down to its wings.



Blue sky halts

for its hours to gather into fire.



The sun swallows the horizon,

end of day,



exhaustion spilt into wounded pools of shadow,

triaged by locusts singing into dark.



The moth wings are gone.







v. 1

The long march



of the sun begins in birdsong







into the utter heat



of a 100 degree afternoon.





Sun twists the day like a licorice stick.







Grass withers,



the smell of thirst rising from the earth.







On the border



asphalt’s crop of black fever ascends.







Ants dismember



a dead moth down to its wings.







Blue sky halts



for the hours to gather into fire.







End of day,



exhaustion split into wounded pools of shadow,



triaged by locusts singing into dark.