Words By Leah Hedrick, Art By intographics
This poem was a F(r)iction Fall Literary Competition finalist.
A drought hit the county
the day we met and stretched into July.
They told me about you, babe;
said we’d have heat.
Heat leached the green from the cornfields
& drained the Wabash. Herons stalked
the cracked bed caked in clay
with nowhere to bathe.
We overlooked them, high
on your balcony.
I made lemonade
& we smoked all summer.
Bourbon soaked into the air, leaving
syrup in our glasses.
We slept naked under open
windows, woke up wet
with sweat & thought it might have rained,
but we were wrong.