- Caroline Naughton
Mars Falls
There’s a problem
The thermometer says
He’s running too hot
To be grilled
Still she grills
Without a sweat.
Yet each sunrise
Dampened mats
Accept his sweat
Hoping she might
Cool him down
With a blow
In the name of
Devotion.
So that he may sweat some more
Onto the anorexic
Who has gone to bed
To arrest
His sweat
That drips
Down
The mat.
In the name of temperance
Or indifference.
There isn’t a care in the world
That can make her
Do his job.
Or hang his towel
Damp to dry
There’s a laundry list
Of reasons why
She doesn’t hang
Or help,
Or give, a sweat.
Forget the sweat
There wasn’t a care in the world
That could make her
Metabolize
His medicine
Was way too hot.
But don’t sweat it,
For he might’ve bled
Her karma
Away.
Cancer, oh cancer,
Don’t you want to stay?
If she gives you a good grill
You will
You might
You may.
Praying
He’ll come back
The next day.
To sweat
So she
Stays wet.
Or so she says
Mars falls
To the mat.