Dog Days (early 1990's)

The brass handles clacked
against the drawer as
the back of his leg
tried to force it shut

With the warmer weather,
the wood was swollen, his
sense of smell was blocked and
he would sweat at the
slightest exertion

The exposed pine of the bureau
drawer slowly bounced shout
with pressure from his legs
The song was over
The sweat beaded on his lip
The pant leg hung from the shut drawer

He put his hand to his forehead,
knew he was capable of murder
and set about opening the drawer
so he could stuff that fucking leg
back in.