By Rizwan Sahib
Bodies flatline on the heat wave,
and that’s the good. The bad: after the argument,
I flung my broad-brimmed hat into the back seat,
and left it there. Now I feel like I’ve been whacked
on the head by a cricket bat.
Someone says to sit in the shade.
If only we could trade this epiphany
for an esky with ice water,
which they forgot to pack.
The lookout is far off yet.
A kookaburra laughs.
My glazed forehead must be visible
from the air-conditioned plane whirring past,
but it won’t have the view of the mountains
that we will.
If only we remember our way back.
Rizwan Sahib lives in Sydney, Australia. He is an adjunct fellow in the School of Humanities and Communication Arts at Western Sydney University. His poems have appeared in Frogpond, Windfall, Blithe Spirit, and Shot Glass Journal.
Academy of the Heart And Mind 