Heat

Olivia Wells

Satisfying sweat seeping of skin

Stretched over sun-browned shoulders

Not the kind that smells anxious and acidic or from bitter cold when you wear too many jackets inside.

Sweat like just-ripe fruit,

Disarming and saccharine.

You, a coyote pausing for a drink, not shaved in weeks,

Cooling yourself in the only way.

Yet, we, so whole and happy in the hot light.