Penn Kemp
Dressing Down
The radio calls for ongoing
heat wave, humidex advisory,
risk of thunderstorm.
The sheets blush, dry
stiff and ready folded.
Two clothespins needed
to hold each head high.
Neighbors cringe, turn off
their lawn mowers, hand in
their towels and turn on low
their latest sound system.
No-one but me wants to see
you naked in the yard, hanging
on the line your wet night
shirt, the one I wear to bed.
