KD
  • Home
  • About
    • Contributors List
    • KD's Blog
    • Award Nominations
    • Support
    • Contact
  • Press
  • Issues
    • Issue 49
    • Issue 48
    • Issue 47
    • Issue 46
    • Issue 45
    • Issue 44
    • Issue 43
    • Issue 42
    • Issue 41
    • Issue 40
    • Issue 39
    • Issue 38
    • Issue 37
    • Issue 36
    • Issue 35
    • Issue 34
    • Issue 33
    • Issue 32
    • Issue 31
    • Issue 30
    • Issue 29
    • Issue 28
    • Issue 27
    • Issue 26
    • Issue 25
    • Issue 24
    • Issue 23
    • Issue 22
    • Issue 21
    • Issue 20
    • Issue 19
    • Issue 18
    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
    • Issue 15
    • Issue 14
    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
    • Issue 12
    • Issue 11
    • Issue 10
    • Issue 9
    • Issue 8
    • Issue 7
    • Issue 6
    • Hand to Mouth
    • Issue 5
    • Issue 4
    • Issue 3
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 1
  • Submissions

Peter Relic

The Humidity

Everyone’s hair’s in curlers, states the Polish
professor with the black belt in borscht.
Correction: chlodnik. Eyes azure as cabbage,
manicure like mangelwurzel, cooler than dill.
 
Wioleta is a pretty name when Wioleta says it.
In my mouth it sounds rude as a feral horse.
A feral horse runs like glue down Battey Street.
Swamp me before I claim it’s not the heat.
 
Wioleta says let’s give the dry cleaner the finger,
let’s split the velvet curtain of July where
Mercutio is hiding, nibbling a Stroopwafel
and workshopping the wobbly bit about
 
“Her whip of cricket’s bone; the lash of film”
which is good ish, but who’s going to
empty the dehumidifier as the living room
is subsumed in rip curls of bramble Fanta.
 
Remember the day at Bull Sluice Lake when we
dropped the giant watermelon and it exploded
into a million puzzles. No curtains were drawn.
No sweat but pit stains. No half doses.
 
I’d never met Wioleta then, or heard her cry
like an owl. Crazy birds attract each other, she
says, accent heavy as summer’s blanket.
Don’t lock up what you hope to see fly.

Biography

Picture
Peter Relic is a writer, photographer, and collage artist inspired by the Georgia Barrier Islands. His writing has appeared in Rolling Stone, VIBE, MOJO, and in Da Capo Best American Music Writing. He lives in Savannah, Georgia. Find him on Twitter: @peterrelic
back to issue
​Next Poem →
Picture
ISSN 2639-426X
© COPYRIGHT 2018-2021. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
  • Home
  • About
    • Contributors List
    • KD's Blog
    • Award Nominations
    • Support
    • Contact
  • Press
  • Issues
    • Issue 49
    • Issue 48
    • Issue 47
    • Issue 46
    • Issue 45
    • Issue 44
    • Issue 43
    • Issue 42
    • Issue 41
    • Issue 40
    • Issue 39
    • Issue 38
    • Issue 37
    • Issue 36
    • Issue 35
    • Issue 34
    • Issue 33
    • Issue 32
    • Issue 31
    • Issue 30
    • Issue 29
    • Issue 28
    • Issue 27
    • Issue 26
    • Issue 25
    • Issue 24
    • Issue 23
    • Issue 22
    • Issue 21
    • Issue 20
    • Issue 19
    • Issue 18
    • Serenity
    • Issue 17
    • The Audio Room
    • Issue 16
    • Issue 15
    • Issue 14
    • Play It Again
    • Issue 13
    • Issue 12
    • Issue 11
    • Issue 10
    • Issue 9
    • Issue 8
    • Issue 7
    • Issue 6
    • Hand to Mouth
    • Issue 5
    • Issue 4
    • Issue 3
    • Issue 2
    • Issue 1
  • Submissions