Journalism In Verse


Days When the Blue Bottom of a Concrete Pool Looks Like Heaven

in Environment by

Nature left the stove on for two weeks without rain
and the town is burning like the face of a crazy prophet,
fevers of heat infecting every touched surface. In the
noon sky the bell tower cross of the Catholic Church is on fire
with sunlight. A freight train ratchets slowly over scorching
steel tracks, its pained scrapes of wheels the synesthetic voice
of stabbing-hot reflected glare. Outdoor tables of downtown
bistros vacant. The heat a swelter ’til midnight, office workers
will hurry from buildings to cars, sweat-soaked laborers
punch-drunk by sun who heard nirvana in the tic-tic-tic
of lawn sprinklers will raid the coolers of minute marts
for the dopamine of six and twelve packs to soothe body
and burning skin, and I will go home and thank God
for my Kenmore wall unit, glad to stay within
the blessing of manufactured air.



Steven Croft is the author of two chapbooks, Coastal Scenes and Moment and Time. He has recent poems in Sky Island Journal and Politics/Letters Live. Steven works for The Marshes of Glynn Libraries in Brunswick, Georgia.


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