Sun slants down, hot and hard, although
the faint breeze is still cool. Nothing
of night is left in this bright day —
the sun’s angle promises more
heat; the earth itself seems to slant
to match the sun and I, I tilt
my head sideways to find balance.
There is a gasping in the light
as if breath itself is lacking,
the light itself cracked and misplaced.
Where is everyone? Streets empty,
sidewalks carry only a rare
and distant stranger, who, like me,
navigates this erratic air.
Sun slants down, at a hard angle,
distorting what it strikes. So still.
The dim light inside the building
whispers this a lie, the air
and light that seem benign cannot
be trusted, will beat us all down.
Originally drafted/written June 1, 2010