POETRY

107 Degrees in D.C.

They breathe steadily, rhythmically,

Against my chest, 

As the world melts;

Their eyelashes graze my chin–

Two sets of petals–

Rosy as the day flowers, ablaze

In rivulets and revolts,

Conflicts that cause

The pain we never hope

To hold in our arms,

Like we do these twin

Babes, swaddled in

The mirth and murk

Our world breathes–

The sun, she burns

Our eyes in honey.

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