Overhang

The radiator in the bedroom

is ticking like a cooling engine.

I can't stand the heat trapped

against the ceiling, so I step out.

The floorboard under the screen door

gives way, a soft, rotting sigh

I've ignored since June.

A moth is wedged between

the mesh and the glass,

beating its wings into a fine,

gray silt. It doesn't know

the air out here is just as heavy,

only it smells like wet cedar

and the neighbors' dying lawn.