Text and Hubris

Heat

We spoke of id and ego while the world burned.
I woke to the heat. I felt it in me.
It was trapped between my skin and bones.
I was solid and melting. My body wept sweat.
And you mentioned Freud as you watched me
bury my head in a pillow, seeking to dry my skin
on the yellowed pillowcase and then defend my actions,
an innocent accused of innuendo.
Outside the silence sat and waited.
The sounds of the day, still muted in the heat,
escaped our attention. I lay back and let my skin
dissolve into the salty liquid that lay beneath.
I heard you laugh, then grow still
until only the silence remained.

Notes:
This is a short, rough, piece that was inspired by our weather today. It needs a lot of polishing but I promised to post more work or works in progress. Keep in mind that anything I post here is probably off-the-cuff and not something I would consider submitting. This is my scratch pad, of sorts, but it does give and idea of my work and my thoughts. Plus, we need more poetry and fiction out there. Preferably, off the web.

But that is my next project!