Poem Four

the sunlight
glows on floorboards
casts shadows
of chair legs
and I stare from
out my teacup
of coffee,
remembering
what it is
for that light
to burn you.
for that light
to be enough
to set fire to the skin
when summer comes
and the thermometer
hits 80, 90, 100 degrees
then that sunlight casting
shadows cross the dining room
scorches.
even the cats retreat.
I miss that heat
I long for it.
I am waiting
to be brought back
to the point of boiling.