Warming, by Ceinwen Elizabeth Cariad Haydon

They say a storm is building,

thunder and lightning, a downpour,

the whole works. Bring it on, please.

 ..

Everyone waits, people pace

around the floor and sweat. Eyes sting,

search for clouds that don’t appear.

Weeks of heat bring out quirks

in staid and steady folk. Hidden

tendencies revealed, misanthropic

words mis-spoke. Lovers quarrel,

rent asunder by stickiness and lack of air.

..
Damp sheets tangle, cling, wrapped

round writhing bodies. Daytime workers

unable to sleep. Frantic. Each night,

bare bottoms bitten by flying insects

whining in through flung wide-open windows.

 ..

A storm is building, so they said,

five years ago. Today, the ground’s too hard
to care, to live, or bury our miscarried dead.