Mid-season
Fruit-heavy with pomegranate
hanging from a slender branch,
bending to the fig. A leaf-shadowed
mauve wall separates their oleander
and plum-lined yard from yours with
a string of party lights. When you squint,
they sparkle like a portal in a dune.
The windowpanes are single panes,
so thin you can hear the young
neighbors whenever they sit
outside with friends.
At night, the sound of the sputtering
irrigation system rising to water
grass that shouldn’t be here.
When the heatwave continues,
you recall the hot radiator, how
he would reach past it, crack a window
to send the cold across your body.
For a few minutes, winter invited
into the room like the one that
holds you near.