The Spinning Turning of the Summer Earth - Anne Clark

The spinning turning of the summer earth

Has stretched and wound the air

Into a tight blue band around

It’s swollen girth

Dizzy and relentless the suffocated streets

Wind on and toil and soils

Gasp their quick and tiny breath

Parched dry tongues scrape over reptile lips

And every word we speak

Steams and crackles in the heat

Lizard still we perch upon the stones

Merging carved and curled this rough

Dry heat unfurls pervades the flash

Marrow that once waxed now wanes the bones

High upon the sky

The one unblinking eye pours down

Its slippery butter, yellow drops

Melting oily fire on our backs

Fingers without touch

Fell for relief

And every move we make

Strains as if about to break

Something has to give