Heat of August by Joe Blanda
I’d kind of been saving this for summer, but I’m going to post it ironically. The temperature dropped over 20F yesterday from the time I checked the temp online to when I arrived at school. I had not dressed appropriately for the day, but at least my gloves were crammed into the bottom of my backpack so my poor fingers didn’t freeze. This is another one from the Texas Poetry Calendar 2008 and I was lucky enough to hear the author (who won the first place prize for the 2007 calendar) read it. You can check out some of his other endeavors here.
Heat of August
By Joe Blanda
i.
Is it hot or is it hot?
The heat needles me into making vague statements
about the weather. And the cost of keeping cool:
everybody sweats it, even fools
for the withering heat, which is seasonal, at least,
and far less traumatic than the withering away of love.
ii.
There’s something sacred and redeeming
about the clothes-bleaching heat.
The scorched glare of pristine streets
badgers a body into sweating for what it needs,
like a glass of lemonade or a parking place in the shade.
But loss of love is loss of life.
iii.
We take turns standing in each other’s shadows
for a degree of relief from the paint-peeling heat.
We take turns standing on each other’s shoulders
to see beyond the haze of our immediate grief.
We take turns sacrificing time, money, love—
to restore what the heat burns away.
Current Tea: spicy chai (apparently the spicy components are proprietary)
