Heat

[s3]

Heat

On his way home, the auctioneer feels a thump in the car
and pulls over to the side of the road. 
There's a short breeze crackling through the trees, fire, 
he gets out and stands, fire, examines the tire, 
it's gone flat. His heart is hammering in his chest. 

Racing season. His wife: why do they run in circles? 
holding a sweating glass in one hand, shading her eyes
with the other. She stands there. Stuck in the tragedy of her past. 

Sweat drips down his eyelash. The day is unimaginably bright
in memory. The yellow smile, the crack of the whip, 
the hard path. She turns to ask him another question, 
shoulders flexing in the heat of the sun. 
To see the rot in a living thing; to speak it. He bends
towards the trampled grass. The long flank, the ripple in the surface. 
Above his lurching body
the world fills with amber. Sunset kills them all.

[Semicircle]

Heat

On his way home, the auctioneer feels a thump in the car
and pulls over to the side of the road. 
There's a short breeze crackling through the trees, fire,       Given the context of crackling breeze, you could allude to a forest fire without directly stating it.
he gets out and stands, fire, examines the tire,        This bolded section could be shortened. It's giving a play by play. perhaps the tire has melted on the concrete?
it's gone flat. His heart is hammering in his chest. 

Racing season. His wife: why do they run in circles? 
holding a sweating glass in one hand, shading her eyes         favorite line
with the other. She stands there. Stuck in the tragedy of her past.    What tragedy?

Sweat drips down his eyelash. The day is unimaginably bright    
in memory. The yellow smile, the crack of a whip,                 I can't gather what you are portraying. These all seem to be vague descriptors.
the hard path. She turns to ask him another question, 
shoulders flexing in the heat of the sun. 
To see the rot in a living thing; to speak it. He bends                            
towards the trampled grass. The long flank, the ripple in the surface. 
Above his lurching body
the world fills with amber. Sunset kills them all.    This ending would have more impact if there was more backstory; I'm left to make my own conclusions.

This piece can do without rhymes, they slow down the story. 

I especially like the imagery; the wife seems to have sent these flames upon her husband. A malevolent force-- possibly imagined.

What is the significance of the auctioneer?

I'm unsure if the forest fire is real or metaphor.  I get the feeling the flames are being incurred from the auctioneer's wife. Maybe he is lamenting his past in his final moments? Either way, I feel more puzzled than satisfied plot wise.

Cheers for the read!
Sc.

[CRNDLSM]

Heat

On his way home, the auctioneer feels a thump in the car
and pulls over to the side of the road. 
There's a short breeze crackling through the trees, fire, 
he gets out and stands, fire, examines the tire, 
it's gone flat. His heart is hammering in his chest. 
Good and suspenseful, I wonder about the importance of his occupation.  Maybe hes going home from work and it's a car he picked up for auctions.  I've never been in a wild fire which is what it sounds like because of the trees


Racing season. His wife: why do they run in circles? 
holding a sweating glass in one hand, shading her eyes
with the other. She stands there. Stuck in the tragedy of her past. 
Racing in circles, is this a race car the auctioneer is in?  Or is she thinking about human running in circles, like chickens in a panic, there is a fire and a flat, the guy is scared, maybe she is too.  Maybe she's reliving her past like her life is flashing before her eyes

Sweat drips down his eyelash. The day is unimaginably bright
in memory. The yellow smile, the crack of the whip, 
the hard path. She turns to ask him another question, 
shoulders flexing in the heat of the sun. 
To see the rot in a living thing; to speak it. He bends
towards the trampled grass. The long flank, the ripple in the surface. 
Above his lurching body
the world fills with amber. Sunset kills them all.

Crack of the whip, racing horses?  The hard path is the road less traveled?  Learning from mistakes? Or are they abandoning their car.  His body lurches is he burning alive right now?  Trampled grass of animals running from the fire?  I love the world fills with amber, I don't understand the long flank.

Just a few thoughts here, pretty vivid images, a little confusion, good work I hope to see more thanks for sharing 

[Mark A Becker]

Hi 3-
I'm not going to do a line-by-line, but I will give an impression:

A live stock auctioneer get his comeuppence.

You could sharpen the focus by cutting S.2, and leaving his wife out of it. For me, she only adds confusion, without enough context.

I don't know that there is enough detail to support the last, dramatic line.

You offer some very fine details, yet seem to leave crucial details out: if you want me to solve this mystery, I need a few more clues.

With a few tweeks this could be a much stronger piece.

Keep at it, and turn up the Heat,
Mark

[alonso ramoran]

Heat

On his way home, the auctioneer feels a thump in the car
and pulls over to the side of the road. I like the sound of this line, but I think it's entirely possible to leave it at "...and pulls over." You could even continue with "There's a short breeze..." so it reads: "and pulls over. There's a short breeze"
There's a short breeze crackling through the trees, fire, [b]I like the use of crackle here but might I suggest removing "through"? I think it'll lend the word more emphasis[/b]
he gets out and stands, fire, examines the tire, Personally, I like the repetition of fire and the little rhyme that follows for no reason other than how it sounds
it's gone flat. His heart is hammering in his chest. 

Racing season. His wife: why do they run in circles? 
holding a sweating glass in one hand, shading her eyes
with the other. She stands there. Stuck in the tragedy of her past. 

Sweat drips down his eyelash. The day is unimaginably bright I can feel the heat in this line. Unimaginably seems like a throwaway adj though
in memory. The yellow smile, the crack of the whip, Small suggestion: could you omit "in memory" and write the sentence in the past tense and still achieve what you were going for?
the hard path. She turns to ask him another question, 
shoulders flexing in the heat of the sun. I'm assuming the N means the wife's shoulders but it's not entirely clear
To see the rot in a living thing; to speak it. He bends
towards the trampled grass. The long flank, the ripple in the surface. 
Above his lurching body
the world fills with amber. Sunset kills them all. Interesting ending, though it might take some rereads for me to fully understand

Thank you for the read : ) you have a solid first draft here and I can't wait to see what you do with it! I do wonder if you could find a more evocative title than simply "Heat" though...

Best,
Alex