Poem: Boil
You can feel the blaze on your back, You sweat, you breathe, the cold is what you lack. The flies tango around your face, They stop, they stare, then they give chase. Your hand swats them till they sit, Hidden in the damp hair that you won't bother hit. They're safe, they know, the sun is slowing you down, For its rays cook the skin and turn you brown. You reach behind you for the metal flask, It's empty, it's dry was it too much so ask? She still hangs high above the ground, She's watching above, angry, hot, she makes no sound. You drudge on in search of cover, Her sight, her rays, you can't hide from them forever. But for now at least you wish for peace, For calm, for safety, for a certainty the heat will cease. If you have a burning question, or would like to featured in some way in the "Ask them from me" segment, email me a...