Sticky,
It squashes
Suppressing protest
Like an invisible
Fog
As still as stillness
Itself.
 |
| Reclining Buddha, Wat Po, Bangkok |
Propelled
By liquid gas
Belch heat
Like oven doors
Opened
To test
Fat slabs of meat
Still roasting.
Hanging above
The Vipavadi Rangsit Road
Like an unflappable marquee
A milk-treacle haze
Thick
As winter warmers
Conceals
The vicious sun
And a one-eyed dog
Barely budges
As a silent woman
In a bamboo hat
Gradually sweeps
Rutted concrete
Pausing only
To check texts
In the cloying heat.
I guess it is hot there then, is it?
ReplyDeleteJust as I was reading this I was thinking 'crikey I'm cold...must put my slippers on and turn up the heating'....but your heat sounds too hot...see I'm just like nit picky Goldilocks....I want it not too hot and not too cold....I want it just as I want it .....and your poem described where you are perfectly I think.
ReplyDeleteYuck! I can feel your misery from here! Me....well, sweatshirt and wool socks. The Bronco's playoff game temperature should start off at 15 degreesF and end at negative 5F. Just the thought of that should make you cooler and less sweatier! I hope your students will inspire you the way the last batch did. Best wishes from here!
ReplyDeleteSo strip down to your studded lavender thong (unless au naturel is your preference) and go have a nice bathe in the Chao Phraya River. That woman sweeping the rutted concrete needs a pleasant surprise now and then and you're just the one to provide it, plus the one-eyed dog is always hoping for something new to sniff and lick.
ReplyDeleteIt's 'ot 'ere too. But without the wonderful cultural details. Lovely poem, YP.
ReplyDelete