Sestina 1 - Edit 1

Six Ways to Die

Blistering in the summer sun,
Skin sticky and hot to the touch.
Cracks in the pavement, in the dirt.
Light so bright it blinds the eye.
Insects hide beneath the shade
Hot wind or no wind,

Never blows a cold wind.
Under the angry eye of the sun,
There is barely a refuge found in the shade.
No desire even for a lover’s touch.
A hand raised to shade the eye –
A small wind raises a swirl of dirt.

Wet strands of hair, skin covered in powdered dirt,
Plastic wrapped, protected from the dirty wind.
Bleached land, but the blue plastic catches the eye –
Of two men walking, oblivious to the sun,
Necks burned from the sun’s touch.
Flesh tone turns an angry red shade.

Eyelids squinted, closed to shade
Soft tissue from missiles of dirt.
Searching for another man, a touch
Of reality through the wavering land, wind,
And heat. The relentless sun
Playing tricks on a wary eye.

A dust devil with a two-foot eye
Spins in the distance. The shade,
Now a shelter not only from the sun,
But the living formations that dirt
Generates with the cutting wind
That seek blood and ruin with their touch.

A battered truck sits, brown with a touch
Of red, creaking. A headlight like one eye,
The other gone. One man spits into the wind,
Glances at the man in the shade,
Wipes from his chin the dribbled dirt,
And eyes the afternoon sun.

The sun touches, takes the shade.
Grit between the teeth, eyes full of sweat and dirt:
The wind is no relief when the devil’s in the sun.