Skinny Dipper (Poetry)

It is such a hot night
the darkness sizzles
matchstick branches hold their fire
and the river shrinks along muttering
                                        a list of complaints

No hunters on the prowl
heat dulls their hungers
traps the nerves in puzzled lethargy
doze follows doze in tedious succession

The scene so-smothered in its waxwork melting state
the merest shiver of a leaf sends out a shock
as a figure realized its naked shape
bold in all-aloneness by the water’s edge

No one there to witness ghost or flesh
or how the greedy water sucks at fresh young limbs
yet not one scream or protest churns before
the swimmer sinks their body deep

Maybe the heat projects a fevered vision
near-boiling blood invites the brain to see
a phantom born of shadows — no identity
not a skinny-dipper’s ripple ...