August

August hangs
heavy in the air
uncomfortably cloaking all
who venture outside

August forced open its eyes
later this morning
than yesterday
labored breathing
hissing
over soon ssooooon

(I found a cicada
lying silent in the street
on my morning walk today)

What happened
to May’s sweet promise
the glittering dance of June
July’s sultry evenings?
gone. all gone.

There is only August
hissing
over ssssoooon soon

Every year
I get the same feeling
somehow
I must have blinked at the wrong moment
every year
I end up in August
finding it hard to breathe
it’s your asthma
my husband says

I know better. I’m
just not ready to face the fall