No Respite
relentless din of crawling prowling night
pours steaming through my window
midnight intrudes damp and searing
insistent
scalded air too hot and thick to breathe
a heat to suffocate
blades beat and drone overhead
promising relief
in vain
sweltered darkness lays heavy upon me
unbearable
I toss in labored half-sleep
gasping for cool relief
restless
I inhale deep to fill my lungs
seeking satisfying breath
only to bake them in cruel heat
no relief
salted droplets trace my spine
baste my neck
pool in the hollow of my fevered chest
bloom and seep
from beneath the smother
of matted soak atop my head
to weep their way ‘cross smoldering brow
into my eyes
and sting
in this nocturnal furnace
night clings and stifles
even dreams are scorched
simmering in August
~ ~ ~
rob kistner © 2012
ugh there are nights like that…when the heat just does not give up and you swim in your sweat and there is only so much you can take off….def shower time…cold shower and jump back in bed and hope to be asleep before the cool is gone…
I wondered who might go to that kind of summer night – the tossing and turning in sweat. You know I just hate A/C so do not turn on in my apartment, and have had a few nights like that this year, but certainly many in my life. You describe them very very well – the scorched dreams, but more that binding tightness. One little typo (I think–and I’m sorry, my eye tends to fixate on these things) is that you have “lunges” when I think you mean “lungs”? Lunges may also work in that kind of difficult situation, but don’t think it’s what you mean.
Thanks for participating and such a “cool” poem. k.
Thanks Karin for your spot on proofreading! Nothing like the 2nd party human eye. And “booooo-hissss” to me for not ‘checking’ my computer’s spellcheck. If only it could determine context, I wouldn’t have had the poor sweltering sleeper exercising in bed… 🙂
The image of a “crawling prowling night” overcome by heat is so evocative.
ugh…def. tough when it’s too hot to fall asleep…nocturnal furnace is a great word for describing it..
“even dreams are scorched” Yes, some August nights are like that, leave you swimming in your own sweat. Ick. But no one has described it as beautifully as you. Thank you.