leaves droop from trees
the sky droops from branches
like a white sheet
to hold the locusts in
their buzzsaw whine
a blaze of sound
july is god’s forge, god’s
hammer coming down
again and again, stupefyingly
hot at seven o’clock
the heat its own kind of sound
a swarm upon my skin
july is sumo wrestling with the sun
belly to belly we stomp
and sweat and shout
the sun always wins
the birds slump and pant
too hot to chase the
screaming bugs
even the wind
dries out, curls up panting
in the woodpile
with the snakes.
Canícula
caen de los árboles las hojas
cuelga el cielo de las ramas
como una sábana blanca
que apresara a las cigarras
en su quejoso zumbar de sierra
incendio de sonido
julio es la fragua de dios
el martillo de dios golpea
una y otra vez, embotador
de tan caliente a las siete
el calor un sonido él mismo
un enjambre en mi piel
julio es una lucha de sumo contra el sol
nos damos panza contra panza
y sudamos y gritamos
siempre gana el sol
los pájaros se desploman y jadean
demasiado acalorados para cazar
los insectos estridentes
el viento incluso
se seca, se enrosca acezanso
en la leñera
con las serpientes.
E. D. Watson is the Poet-in-Residence at St. Mark's church in San Marcos, Texas, and a clerk at the public library. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing and is in training with the Institute for Poetic Medicine. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and published in a number of journals.
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