Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Comments about Molly Peacock
A Hot Day In Agrigento
Temples look like discarded alphabets.
We loved lying in their shadows lazily
deciphering and resting and laying bets
on what they really were for. Easily
caught by fantasy, we no longer cared
why they were there, just that they were. Happy
to sit down and drink the water we shared
(having lugged our plastic bottle, and hats,
and camera, through the human dung bared
right there in the sun—where else could you get
relief with no toilets?) we guzzled it down
and splashed it on our arms, hands, legs, and necks.
A girl in dirty,...