Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Summer Sonnet 18: Summer Funk

Black bananas greet my return home
sitting atop oranges turned stone hard.
Popcorn-size flies sing a quiet tome
at the beaded window facing the yard.

I am reminded that everything rots
as the salad in the fridge turns brown.
And as the gourmet-purchased cheese clots
a drunken beetle stumbles and drowns.

Summer stench wafts a lovely dark perfume
that bouquets the halls with a turgid life.
Hot rust dribbles down the sweltering room
belies roiling tropical storms and strife.

Deep in the sizzling belly of noon.
murked and muddle in the middle of June.

- By Aurin Squire

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