You need gills to breathe in air like this.
June One and already there is too much
moisture pooling on necks and upper lips,
transforming hair into static clouds.
Already mosquito sting on ankle, raised
welts on tender flesh. Already the world around me
feels too close. Also, already,
lighting bugs, those impossible bright blimps.
Already peony and daylily, lavender
and hydrangea. Already bullfrog
and the white-tailed deer. Already my best friend’s
three year old, who never wants our walk to end,
small hand hot and sticky in mine.
I will gladly grow gills, if that’s what it takes.
I will evolve, rainbow scales replacing skin,
transparent eyelidsthat shnick into place
as I wade through the dampness.
I will amphibian. Crustacean.
I will do what it takes to love
every bit of this hot green world.