Journalism In Verse

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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.

 

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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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