the sun rages down on stone and water

not only am I exhausted

but I'm emptied out

flat under the hammering beams

I ask what the hell

and what the hell

I ask but still the sky is blue

but so hazy it's a shade of slate

and silence is the first buzzing (early)

of cicadas punctuating the humid tent

of summer air under the boughs of bending branches

I ask what the hell

and what the hell

I ask but no answer tells me all I've heard before

I know it I am crushed beneath it

and I become aware that the time of fortunate turns is done

I am brought down to the earth one last time

and I say what the hell

and what the hell...

Contengt (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.