96 degrees

we hang our skin on the clothesline 
& go take turns as skeletons on the swing set.
this is the only way to feel cool again.
swelter & melting birds. 
i remember when i was a girl
sometimes the summer nights would feel cold.
as if autumn had a foot
in summer's hair. now, all i know is wax.
the candle flame, our laughing heads.
i try to find a field to bury my teeth 
but they fly out of my head
as jupiter beetles. "let's not be too hasty,"
they say. "it's just how we die wait wait i mean
just how we change," says a television man
with a cooler the size of heaven. 
he freezes his children & unthaws them
one by one so that he can always have
a baby to use in photographs. 
i have walked barefoot down main street
& lost all my hair to a strong wind.
i have laid out beneath the stars
on a lover's roof. neither of us admitted
to being lovers. now we turn into fried eggs.
my golden brown edges. her brilliant strawberry hair.
each degree is like a dog year. faster than
it ever should be. i drink as much water
as i can. it's never enough. i turn into
a pool noodle. i turn into a honey comb.
swarm. laugh. licorice. this is all to say
it's getting cauldron today. if we are soup,
i am the little meatballs & you the pasta pearls. 
i hope the new animals 
know how to breathe.