heat is on a mission
it is stealth
 
it creeps in
slow, before sunrise, undetected 
 
(at first)
 
it sneaks its way 
through cracks left unfilled
 
it eventually slithers and snakes
into open spaces
 
–right in broad daylight–
 
it expands exponentially
uncoils and hisses
 
looks to lunge
to sink its teeth into salty, sweat marinated flesh
 
a retreat to shade won’t help
it knows
it knows…

there is no relief
there is only triage:
 
fans whirring full blast
air conditioners laboring loud
ice melting in desperate hands 
 
 
there is no way out
there is no place to run
 
there is only hope to survive
whenever a heatwave strikes