The heat is smothering me,
a blanket I never wanted,
a duvet I cannot throw off,
a pillow I struggle to push,
please can Arctic winds
fly down to meet me?
Living on snow or ice or
perhaps a mountain, maybe
in a log house at the peak
of Kilimanjaro, where winds
would whip at my face and
blisters would form on
my extremities, I think
I should prefer.
When cold you can wrap up,
but in this sweltering
cloying warmth I am unable
to remove my skin.