Local Lines

Heat

Don't bring me flowers to mend a rift as if I’m still a gullible girl –it’s now after the straw has broken the camel’s back!

What I’m worth is a scoop of snow from the top of Kilimanjaro to cool my frustrated face; the last petal plucked from a desert bloom to hear it bleed sand now that I’m all cried out then bring me an open window high and wide silk curtains billowing hold it up to a pharaoh sunrise; milk pools of moon-lotus; a scared Ibis of ancient honey from a lesser King’s tomb will suffice and while you’re about it peel me a grape feed me slice by slice but don’t ever again bring me your armour of flowers from the last florist in the last street on the Free Park corner and paid for with leftover coin –in this heat they’ll be dead by morning!

- Jan Price

Local Lines features poetry by locals about local and any other matters. Please submit poems to Bill Wootton at cottlesbreedge@gmail.com

Jan lives in Ballarat and her poetry continues to be published in Australia, United States and now England. Her art and photos occasionally appear on literary covers.