It’s Not the Heat…

In the heartland,
the deviations are manifold.
Summer shuffles by once, twice,
three times smiling scary.
It happens that we eat the ending.

Certain notions cloud
the surface of the brain,
congealing and dispersing,
congealing and dispersing.
The repetition numbs.

Eyes become heavy in the draggy heat.
And all the while this ragged tune
emits from somewhere out of reach,
threatening to spill our secrets,
to tell us to ourselves.

-r. miller

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