Paige Elizabeth Wajda

(of a place) unsuitable for living in.

by 2100    my neighbourhood
will be too hot         to live in.
120° F will no longer be     a summer fling
but a daily    matrimony.

like winterfolk we’ll have to    cover up
even for the briefest jaunt    to the mailbox
(lest we come back    burnt
covered in cancer, lips split     like the asphalt)

january will no longer bring   the relief
of the past; the snowbirds will fly      further north
tortoises will cease their     brumation
(if there are any     left)

130° F will bring more    blackouts
and more cracks   in the blacktop
melted bodies     on the sidewalks
piles of goop    covered in clothes        (better them

than us) left alone  when they were young
the vegetables stayed green    for weeks
in the end    all they dreamt about
were chips     of ice

at least the golfers     will finally go home
and the traffic will dwindle    as the gas runs out
we already dig down      from June ’til September
soon we draw the curtains                                     for good