tomatoes 
straight off the vine
sun-ripe and wet as 
a lover’s July skin 

the day runs its 
humid tongue up 
my thigh

we are only sweat 
and angles—exposed 
elbows, bare knees, sharp 

anger that hangs
heavy in the still 
night air

I read once that on 
hotter days 
a pitcher is more likely 
to hit a batter

remind me in October to apologize 
for how I always 
pitch it inside 

aiming straight for your heart 

---

Author’s Note: In my house, we track the year by the baseball season. Opening Day signals spring. Playoff baseball means fall has arrived. And once the All-Star break has come and gone, we are deep into summer, which in Baltimore means unrelenting heat and humidity. I wanted to capture summer’s specific blend of sensuality and aggression. There’s so much skin and sweat—you can’t help but feel horny!—but it’s also such a stifling, uncomfortable season. I spend all summer bouncing back and forth between desire and rage. I doubt I’m the only one. By October, it’s time for the playoffs and fall, and for me to make amends for all the fights I picked when it was too hot to do anything else.

Claire Taylor is the author of multiple chapbooks, including Mother Nature and One Good Thing (Bottlecap Press). She is the founding editor of Little Thoughts Press. Claire lives with her family in Baltimore, Maryland, in an old stone house where birds love to roost. You can find her online at clairemtaylor.com.