slow the moon
slumber the night
summer night
august swoon
the air is sweating out from under my skin
the mosquitoes are quite in love,
enamored in mood, feasting on blood
drinking up the night fill on through
an uncaring host
no tail to swat
no care to move
for my backyard is no bayou
no beasts are lurking there,
parched lips
brown bottle
cold sip of beer nearly satisfies,
baking on the other side of the sun
direction under the moon’s eye
kept from sleep and dream
invisible mist heavy surrounds
gravity in shackles
down to the ground
I melt into my chair
into the scene
bring me rest, being me sleep
my flesh weeps into the air