S’moisture Heat & Screams

Where winter is midyear
and summer is December
and hours and hours of light
and evenings orange blue

and starlight-yellow Christmas
eves, the shoreline echoes field
turquoise Pacific splendour.
It breeds aloneness joyfully

to contemplate the passage
and the rites, the lily
-scented nights— it is the cold
brings us together, and the heat

allows departure
without tearing— On the red tree
November grows the Summer
through December, and the

largely native Year prolific
evergreen; it is the heat
of man for woman, clockwork
while we’re talking

first drinks in last light
these late and long warm Island
evenings sparring festive
and commemorative;

the heat and hunger folded
moistened and supreme,
and connected. and at peace ;
it is their screams

for this, for us, to pleasure them
as hard I hit the punching bag
which has me think
they savage and in power.

 

 

 

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