by Heather Ford-Helgeson
I love the heat.
I love
the
heat.
It is in sun
that
every follicle
stands
and sways
and sings
after months
of being
pushed
squashed
layered
and
hidden
by wool
and
denim.
I expose my
skin to even
the slightest
air
wearing perhaps
less than
I should
but I cannot
help
myself
as I have
longed
for
breezes.
There is no like
to hot skin
meeting cool
water.
Nothing sticks
I am light
and free
refreshed and revived.
But the heat
waits for me,
to once again
flush my skin
stick my skirt to my legs
prickle the hairs on my neck
and leave me feeling
blissfully
spent
when,
at night,
I
slip into soft
cool
sheets
and
prepare
for
another day
of
heat.
