July by Jean L. Kreiling

July

This heat, too thick and sticky to be shaken
from fleshy creases, saturates your brain
until your stupor might well be mistaken
for cool, come-hither posing—but hard rain
is now your favorite fantasy by far:
no dalliance or drink or swimming hole
would satisfy as well as clouds that spar
in loud electric downpours. Thunder’s roll
seduces like a love song; you would gladly
forget fair weather—and when merely teased,
you languish like a lover treated badly,
your sluggish lust for lightning unappeased.
Although you mop your brow and bare your feet,
July still clings with enervating heat.

by Jean L. Kreiling

Editor’s Note: The fourth line is such a tease… the enjambment tosses readers from the possibility of cool back into summer’s heat with nary a break in the meter.