the heat

Clammy dusk.
Then, the sweet relief
when evening greets you
with cool breeze

just before night´s fall
and again, the fevered tossturn.
Bead, hang, roll.
Drips drop to the pillow.

Absorbed pressure and degrees
released.
They steep sleep
in sticky heat,

paint those quiet hours
with faces robbed
of their time,
and place.

Rearranged,
they speak
of what you´ve seen
and give voice to your thoughts

yet they were never there.

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