August 2nd, 06
The wind singing phrasesof bawdy clouds
And a draconian sun penetrating into
Sun - miles deep
Quivers of heat waves
crackling tales of corn
bellowing with pomposity
To surge ten feet high
rife with the debauchery
of spawning mosquitoes
Pink-gold frailty of peaches
Hanging in dreams of voluptuous peaks
Brooding heads of flowers
Lustful vines of grapes
Bindweed enveloping a cringing landscape
Laser waves corresponding
With pink-cheeked tomatoes
Back of the woods, wheat fieldsshorn of their beards
shimmer in brown corpses
Shrieks of black-eyed susans
Silver-blue thistles wearing spike helmets
Dragon flies painted with Art-Nouveau wings
And the lavish praise of butterflies on phlox
Mosquitoes with brass knuckles
Melancholy flies humming at the screen door
Honey sticky winds
Métiers of bird song; shadows of bird wings
A narrative of sun and skyOf summer; languid, wet-lazy summer
High, wide, deep August
Hot, thick, soupy
Woven in garlands of chicory-blue and queen anne’s lace
Fastened with tansy buttons
Drinking nectar from orange lily cups.
Holding tight, breathing heavy
encompassing, erotic August
Every nook and cranny does she fill with wanton flesh.
Lover of the red-flame sun thrashing pigment from her skiesRipening copious spawn.
Languid, lush Augustof purple-popping grapes
And pools of black-eyed susans
Hammering heat pounding rivers and lakes to froth.
Succulent, sultry August
and cracks of lightening
sizzlingthe skies to curdle
to rent open
to rains of blind-passions
That lick tree-tops, and suckle the steamy earth.
Decadent, voluptuous AugustClimbing in vines thick and rampant
Tangling within themselves, wrapping around tree trunks.
up and up
Enshrouding swollen clouds of autumn‘s promise.
Bursting, juicy-ripe August
Rubbing sun-soaked limbs
Against the bronzy flesh
of melancholy September
Susan Dale’s poems and fiction are on Eastown Fiction, Ken *Again, Penman Review, Inner Art Journal, Feathered Flounder, and Hurricane Press. In 2007, she won the grand prize for poetry from Oneswan.