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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