The Spiining Turning Of The Summer Earth - Clark Anne



The spinning turning of the summer earth

has strtched and wound the air

into a tight blue band around

it's swollen girth



Dizzy and relentless the suffocated streets

wind on and toil and soils

gasp their quick and tiny breath



Parched dry tongues scrape over reptile lips

and every word we speak

steams and crackles in the heat



lizard still we perch upon the stones

merging carved and curled this rough

dry heat unfurls pervades the flash

marrow that once waxed now wanes the bones



High upon the sky

the one unblinking eye pours down

its slippery butter , yellow drops

melting oily fire on our backs



fingers without touch

fell for relief



and every move we make

strains as if about to break

something has to give



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