By Melissa McGraw
The humidity is thick tonight,
heavy on the back of my tongue
as the scent of your cologne.
Our bodies shift and settle low
like amethyst clouds stacked
along the horizon. A soft hum—
more sensation than sound—
thrums just beyond my reach.
A distant rumble and the front retreats.
I twist away from you with a sigh.
The cool wind an apathetic reply.
Melissa McGraw earned a bachelor’s degree in English from Carroll University. She has been published in Wisconsin People & Ideas, Anthills, Arbor Vitae, RE/VERSE, The Shout, Portage Magazine, Century, and Wisconsin Poets’ Calendar. She lives in Madison with her husband and two rescue dogs, seeking aesthetically pleasing adventures.