A Month To Forget

I cannot lie, I hate the month of July.

She was the month I was born
She is the month that I’m torn.
As thirty-one days of dry heat
Brings thirty-one nights of wet sheets.

And her sister June
Doesn’t make me swoon.
And I too have no lust
For her hot bro’ August.

I cannot lie, I hate the month of July.

Her hot Summers
My burned Bummer.
So I wait for September
For cool nights I remember.

No more spread sunscreen
No more burnt skin sheen.
As May’s leaves they begin to Fall
He’s my favorite month of all.

I cannot lie, I hate the month of July.


Today’s poem is for Day 4 of National Poetry Writing Month. The napowrimo.net prompt is to write a poem about what I thought was the cruelest month of all, which this prompt was inspired by T.S. Elliot declared who once declared that “April is the cruelest month of all.”