Don't Talk To Me About Summer
Bloody freezing right now
and Sanaa over at Prompt Nights
is asking for a poem of summer –
hot, sensuous summer
of fiery bosom and bared lips
(or was that the other way around?).
Hard now, already, to imagine
raging heat, naked flesh. Who wants
recollections that only make you shiver
all the more in wretched comparison?
We hate you, Northern Hemisphere poets.
You think your half is the whole world, don't you?
You're so up there. But just you wait.
When you are shovelling snow
and battling blizzards, guess where we'll be?
Yes, at the beach. We'll be sprawling
on smooth sand in the sun, we'll be playing
in our rapturous oceans ..... Meanwhile I'm sneezing.
Written for Sanaa Rizvi's Prompt Nights
