the city,
brick and cement,
a thousand glass panes
and pavement.
a prism of sunrays
as I sweat through my shirt.

boiling pasta kettle
steam my face,
the griddle’s hot flecks.
scolding fluid,
pocking my skin.

eyeballs and eyelids,
and face muscle tense.
as I drive into sunrise.

iridescence from her
glittering warm canyon,
and my hot heavy breath.
quiet and pleasant
summer nights
pass away.

through a lifetime,
cancer in the pores,
from bright blue
sunny skies.

a newborn baby
radiates warmth.
the still sharing element
from mother’s womb hearth.

hot bullet leaves a gun.
with a hard punch.
like a hot poker through a lung.
here is one thing you can’t beat,
there is no such thing as cold,
only the absence
of heat.