The whole sun fell in one bang,

stunning the land with scorch

and steam, too hot for the dogs

and seedlings. I touch my skin

to check for flames — bushfires

start with a single match –

a featherbrain flick. The best

storms to pacify follow the

grilling and build a sauna to

wilt in while your collarbone

sticks out like ivory and your feet

sear on parched embers until

wrung out in humid wafts — but

my poached limbs can stand

another dollop of molten sizzle

before the droop tips.

Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved

Written by

Writer, poet, storyteller. https://muckrack.com/bridget-webber-1 Author Page Amazon https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv

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