Dry Heat - Poem by Linda Coker
It takes all I’ve got just to wake up
And whatever’s left to arise.
I drag my legs over the edge of the bed
And attempt to pry open my eyes.
Nausea rolls deep in my stomach,
My head feels quite dull, numb and thick.
I’m planted in front of the AC,
Determined I shall not be sick.
It’s not West Nile or a hangover,
That’s bringing me straight to my knees.
It’s surviving an Arizona summer,
At one hundred and fifteen degrees!
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