Over at Dave Bonta's blog, we find the latest poem from Luisa A. Igloria, which has an epigraph from Hebrews. Her poems almost always delight me, and this one is no different with its shimmering insights.
Another poet who rarely disappoints and gives us poems almost daily is Hannah Stephenson. I love today's poem "Psalm Dot Com."
And here's a poem of mine, that seems appropriate for a scorching hot day; I wrote it on an October day that felt more like August. It appears in my first chapbook, Whistling Past the Graveyard.
The catholic heat holds us
in a tight embrace for what seems an age.
We participate in the sacraments
designed to make us forget the hellishness
of everyday life: afternoons at the pool,
barbecues, beach trips, and for the fortunate few,
a trip to the mountains, a retreat, a pilgrimage.
We pay alms as we must: electric bills,
pool chemicals, cool treats. We pay indulgences
when we can’t avoid it: the air conditioning repair
man, the pool expert who keeps the water pure,
men versed in mysteries we cannot hope to understand.
Finally, the heat breaks. A cold front swoops
down upon us from the north country, a Reformation
bringing with it the promise of other Protestants,
more weather systems to overthrow
the ubiquitous heat, to leave
us breathless with the possibilities of change.