Heat

It’s ten the bells say, but my eyes will not open.

Sluggish, lugubrious steps

Not ‘slow’;

that is too fast for me.   Leeeeentemeeeeent

Lentement.

Lendemain?

The fly happy in his 40C state

dances around my giant

Bulbous grave of a head.

His

   blood

     speeds.

Mine thickens like wet rolled tar in July.

A frog whose heart beat in Winter

Can only beat once.

Must conserve.

Must get through.