May 31

After late winter rains, saguaro blooms burst from the tops:
alien housewives in curlers stand in the shimmering heat.
Rainbow scaled lizard's claws scratch across a hot rock.
Hanging laundry at the community clothesline, the heat and light penetrate my bones.

May 30

Hot wind blowing through my open screen rattles the blinds.
Olios spider hiding in the cracks somewhere, carrying sperm.
Idling motor rumbling in my chest and throat.
These days I feel the spill, black plumes seeking the surface.