The Seducer’s Hat
Like a skydiver about to plunge for the first time
from the opened plane into breathlessness
I stand pressed to the last strip of black
before sunlight, gazing across eight feet of blazing tarmac –
it takes such courage, this tackling head-on
of the heat. One two three chimes a distant bell
and the track opposite scratches its way up the hillside,
shimmering. Fallen figs, hard as stones,
bruise my toes; spider threads, trailing
in the airless air, are enough to deter me.
You brush them away. Wear my hat! you cry
from the other side, tossing it towards me.