The sky of slanting blue, the dust, the heat
as summer sneaks up like a hungry wolf;
fierce sun that melts the tar onto the street
and sucks the water from the murky Gulf.
I was five when clouds rose dark as ravens
Spreading midnight wings beyond the trees.
“It’s night,” I whispered, staring at the heavens;
I thought my parents had forgotten me.
The storm came fast; I watched the water rise—
The flood meant that my parents couldn’t reach me.
My babysitter took me to her house nearby;
I slept there in her Acapulco beach tee.
In Houston, summer is for hurricanes:
The unexpected, violent mundane.
About the Creator
E. A. Papademetriou
E.A. Papademetriou is a poet.
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