It's 97 degrees outside;
my thoughts melt
into another mess
that will need to be
washed, dried
and swept away,
and I will need
to think again.

The new neighbor
has a name,
marten, which sounds
friendly enough--
a favorite uncle
or the stock boy
at the grocery store--
but don't be fooled,
he's the one who'll
sneak onto your property
while you're asleep
and eat your poultry
raw.