BARBECUE

Where did they get this
   
        thing,
 
   this hot wet rag, this molten web,
 
this immense fist of heat,

assassin of summer hopes and winter
                         
                                        dreams,

thing that makes March slush look

lovely and bends all thought
                 to homicide.

Now we know the "Bloody Tropics"

          beyond the blood-thin books,

      inside the steaming marrow of our

bleached and blistered bones,

with shvitz we can't

forgive.
 


On the 42nd day of the Great Heat

August 1988


All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
Contact Bill Schechter
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