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On Holiday
By Scott Mulrane

The heat kisses fiercely,
like a freed man.
The sky shouts blue,
bougainvillaea a fever of purple.
A hummingbird slides
through sleeping air
like a polished jade angel.
A toucan gargles,
and a black butterfly shines
like coal already dreaming diamond.

He strolls the terrace,
a whippet in linen,
too weak of eye to hear
the poison in the purr
of gold at her ankle,
the crackle of dryness
in the fine bones.

He crumples his ticket
like an outgrown snakeskin --
this courtyard is mad
with dripping orchids,
the fields of Ohio
are tangles of beans.