When the Air Refuses to Breathe

The asphalt shimmers like a broken promise.
Even the birds are silent,
their songs boiled down to instinct and stillness.

A child presses her face to the glass of a closed library—cool air locked inside.
The park is empty.
 The swings creak
like bones in the windless dark.

Somewhere, a man lies on cardboard
under a highway overpass,
A wet rag folded across his chest like a flag.

The news says record highs.
The city opens “cooling centers”
like band-aids on a burning skin.

But the sun does not negotiate.
It rises without apology,
a god that has stopped
answering prayers.

It feels like melting time to people's bodies
The sunglasses are of no use
The heat exceeds the body normal cope
Up of the heat

Everyone is just crying to God
But feels like it's just unanswerable
Prayers
Everyone repents since the heat feel
Like the end of the world