Too much, by half

In the sizzle heat
we yearn
for any colder chill
oh, please
one ghostly presence
in the hall
one shiver
worth a bag of coins

damn be doom
it's hot down here

how many souls
are there in all
can the countless be

will it matter
if I take time
or will I simply be required
to return
to try again
to be a bodhisattva
next time

if indeed something
to find myself
returned to

when the Supreme's
selected band
of merry merry men
reverse the stealing/ giving
to suck it up again

take it
show it
use it up then
toss it all away

but never out
not out
for out
has ceased to be

no out is left
no, all is in
all is here
and nowhere there

none are them
and all are us
and here we sit

the air is foul
the water grey
the plants hang clinging
in their languid limp
birds once flew
and bison roamed

damn be doom
it's hot down here

Ann-Patrice Hickey