counterfeit of The Hunchback.
The drops of sweat of my temple
creeping uselessly - wait! - I could come over
and water your garden.
The air is thick like smoker's breath,
or maybe how one comes out of a steamed bath.
The fan's head swirls back and forth -
it looks like a giant and plastic flower.
It blows only some, directed relief.
Most of the old school thermometer is red.
The numbers are pushing eighty.
Finally the arrival of the repairman.
Amanda Tumminaro lives in Illinois with her family. She enjoys libraries and caffeinated drinks. She is a new voice to the poetry world and her poetry has appeared in Storm Cellar, Sassafras Literary Magazine and Hot Metal Bridge, among others. She will soon be going to school to get her degree in art.
