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heat wave
by Anneke Swinehart author info
Today burned white, velvety.
Rolling flesh kneading limbs sweat behind the knee drooling on my patch of beach.
It was a day where the few round clouds burned off towards evening.
perfectly violet sky no contrast, no starkness
quiet fragrant seduction
dusk.
Tonight, suddenly wonderful
cool, crisp
sunburned skin freshly showered, aloe and clean cotton sheets. tangled towels four beers unwinding my insides.
wrists and ankles, dexterous and elegant from their utter lack of intent.
I gather up my bones and walk to the corner store.
Salt-stiff hair, sand smell and seaweed
Hips loose - clothes hovering shinysoft skin.
Following my feet my mind wanders back
down another road remembering
beer in paper bags.
flip flops laying a light staccato over the murmur of confession
heady musk of overwatered lawns, lilac bushes and rotting wood
rasping of plastic-soled china slippers on pavement
still a little dizzy swing-sets and booze
pools of streetlight
tidal cycles of crickets and cicadas
cicadas and crickets
tomorrow lapping up against our ankles
pregnant pauses punctuate dreaming out loud
In my dream last night I could look straight into my cunt.
Like looking down a child's throat. Red soft and glowing.
I was cavernous. I could see a long way, there were many tunnels, like catacombs, like an underground city, like a refuge.
I was inhabited.
A crocodile-dragon swam through the air nodding to me as it passed. A kitten chased shadows around a corner. A lion's head floated by...its mane a writhing disk of gold rays. It could see me watching, and tried to elude me, but I chased it through my tunnels until I awoke.
My interior was convoluted, safe, and elaborate.
I was subterranean. Aquatic.
as warm, as velvety as
tonight tonight
my flip flops echo off the overpass
fingertips trail like vines along chainlink fences
Stevie Wonder drifting down...Overjoyed
Dusk still throbbing and perfect
jasmine up ahead eyelids heavy
Nick's lights bathing the cats yowling in the lot and
Tonight splits open before me
like a magnolia in august
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Anneke Swinehart's poetry can be found in Herland anthology #1. She has been featured at the Albuquerque poetry festival and in the pages of Bad Luck Bingo, a zine out of Austin. Anneke has lived in Italy, Michigan, New Mexico, New York, Montana, and is currently nesting in San Francisco: "I'm loving the fog, the ladies, the agapanthas, ocean, mountains, and forests right out my door, and all the chaos."
All material copyright the authors, printed with permission.
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