ICARUS

The heat thumps in your head
in short lines with long vowels
in Arizona,
                    mantras of pain
                    without rain
                    in July—

day after day deliriums,
ripe tomato red hallucinations
pulsing behind the eyes.

The flesh burns and blisters
in the light moving from shade
to shade to wait for darkness

when we can dream of dying—
any kind of ascension to beat the heat.

                                                            – for Amy