Sestina 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,
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.

Strands of hair, skin covered in layered dirt
Plastic wrapped, protected from the dirty wind.
Scorched land, but the blue plastic catches the eye.
Two men stand, oblivious to the sun,
One hand burned from the car’s touch.
Flesh tone turns an angry red shade.

Eyelids squinted close to shade
Soft tissue from missiles of dirt.
Searching for another man, a touch
Of reality through the mirage of wind
And heat and the relentless sun,
All playing tricks on a wary eye.

A dust devil with a two-foot eye
Shudders from the distance. The shade
A refuge now from not only the sun,
But the living forms that dirt
Spawns with the briary wind
That seek blood and ruin with their touch.

A battered truck, brown with a touch
Of red pulls up, creaking. A face, one eye
Gone. The man spits into the wind,
Glances at the figures still in the shade,
Wipes from his chin the spittled dirt
And eyes the afternoon sun.

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