salamandar & a mote of me
storm sewer stretches round & ribbed
underground, light caught in a smaller
ring down the length of this larger
one in which i fit, crouched, i
creep forward, echos of amphibians’
voices welcoming me into their own
temporary reprieve, algae
moist hollow, August heat overwhelming
pedestrians on the sidewalks but we
below whisper cool reassurances
that summer will not enter here to force
either one of us to have to choose a side