La Bahía summer sits on the shape of my writing
South of the Border
July soaks my writing in symbols
humidity burdens my stanzas
until breezes cool the lethargic engine
and it revs up for a few false starts.
The weight of August heat squeezes
words like limes, seeping sharp tangy
juice that shrinks lines, presses on the rush
to finish something not yet said.
By September high sea fevers
drench my words, make them sloppy, sluggish
with lots of esses, slippings and slitherings,
then slides into the nothing of October
until November blusters gulf breezes
rushing the veranda, trying to blow
my words off the paper,
slamming hows into whats, swirling all
into pileups of rear enders along the bannisters,
but inside, lingering confinement stretches
the lines and squelches slow motion poetics,
no place to go makes stanzas long, incurable,
demanding an unknown from readers.
Even the elongated cool hides the music in the poems,
erases honeyed loveliness of lyrical lines.
All is well, but nothing is consummated.
©Sharon Lopez Mooney, "Bahia summer sits on my writing", from Ginosko Literary Journal, Issue #26, Ed. Robert Paul Cesaretti, Fairfax, CA, Spring 2021, print and online: http://ginoskoliteraryjournal.com/images/ginosko26.pdf