by Kelli Ann Brommel
You Bacchanalian bimbo
Divulging the neighbor’s nipples
As he sweeps ‘cross his carpet of sod.
With your runners running
Humidity oiling abdominal obliques.
Plan as we may to stay clad,
Comfort defeats all modesty-
Shorty shorts in the produce aisle,
Speckled cleavage in canned goods.
We’re on display—so many bare chassis—
Old and young, no shade from
Your stank, your sun-washed tremors.
You devilish trickling rivulet of
Perspiration ‘tween butt cheeks,
Crackled leg veins like flooded rivers
In stubbled deforestation.
I want to wear pants, you spoiler.
I crave knit scarves and sweaters.
Your swatters of flies and
Wing-borne disease be gone.
Some summers ere past you were free, lazy days
Garter snakes and toads
Strawberry barefoot ripe tomato cookout
Popsicle cantaloupe squirt gun fireworks
Kayaking cloud shapes running in sand
Reading all day
Double feature drive-in.
Don’t think I don’t remember,
Your seductions are blatant to a wizened eye,
A seasoned half-century palate.
You’re bad for a blue-eyed, Irish-white
Ginger bedecked in freckled constellations.
I’ve no defense against you,
You brilliant hot-air buffoon.
Someday your storms may kill us all,
Wind tearing off what’s left of our clothes,
Tides submerging home and land.
It’s not melodrama, comparing your ways to the end of days:
Heat’s apocalyptic when you’re the ant under glass.
You beat-boxing threat of early death,
At least you give us gardens.
We can vegetate in rootless, fruitless yearning,
Long for a cool brush of mothwing.
Summer, I was born to your embrace.
Still kicking and bawling, I yield,
Casting off garments and hair,
Till I’m just as I was when we met-
Simple and raw, at your mercy.
Kelli Ann Brommel writes poetry in Iowa City, Iowa, occasionally participating in poetry slams to keep her read-aloud gears well-oiled. She's also on the umpteenth rewrite of a middle grade science fiction novel. Kelli has not yet had work published, but she only recently started down that winding path. Frankly, she'd love to have something to brag about at poetry group.