49

Screen Door Blues
Jessamine Coovert

It’s that time of  year again,
When I sleep with the door wide open. 
Sheets tossed to the foot of  the bed, hoping
for release from the fist of  humidity. 
Clothing clings to me,
    a second skin. 
Thick air fills my lungs to the brim and 
swamps all thoughts. 
     No work to be done,
I ought to rejoice. 
Sneak down to the old pond,
cut off my hair and change my name. 
Dance under those stars as
     naked as I came into this world. 
It’s summertime and I sleep with the
screen door wide open. 
Left with nothing but time for hoping.