The Low Chair
by Beau Boudreaux


Yet do I often warmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing
And float with them about the summer waters
-John Keats, "Happy is England! I could be content"

Stranger things have not happened--
this Saturday afternoon nude women

in bay blue shifts came into
the sauna

I slow cooked in the corner--
no one noticed or seemed to care

and as the sun swiftly slays
the horizon, it became clear

that temptation was not the card--
there will be no orgy

rather punishment, for the only

movement?beads of sweat
over each pore of my body

I become a seal
my vision goes blurry

the moment I try to gaze
only Hades could hold

me down, panic, dehydration
the long wish to leave.






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