The sun’s yolk blooms above
Your eye, coaxing mirages from the
Middle distance.
The long stare brings no relief.
Neither of you are ready
To lower his gaze first.
All around, images are sharp in
The heat
But doubt can cast shadows. Leaning
Under its eaves cools any ardor,
Saving words for other times
Of challenge.
01 June 2018
Copyright 2018 Mona Caccam
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