SANT JOSEP

This is the tale of Sant Josep
Of birds and bees and boys
Cicadas whirring amidst the pines.

So hot you might go mad
And shoot a gun at the sun
To make it set.

Eyes slip closed and the heat
Beats and bangs on your eyelid doors
The torpor of summer
Sedated.

A breath of balsam
The sunscreen drip
Gold chain knotted around his neck
Caught in the silky tufts at his chest bone.

Dive in the pool
Down drown down here
The final setting sun
Like a lemon sucked sec.
 
Year: 2017