Richmond in Summer

In the afternoon

when I am woman

and you are the August sweat behind my knees,

the azalea seducing my honeybee, the sidewalk dust in my sandals,

the sun loving my arms brown, when you are the panting dog on my porch,

the condensation on my glass,

my perspiring bus,

my black girl with shimmering skin,

my raincloud threatening violence, when you are my summer colors: watermelon, sunflower,

asphalt, elm, broken glass, then I will wear a white dress,

though I carry thoughts heavy and humid,

and walk this sad, southern city –

this city, sensual and grieving.