Untitled

landscape
smeared under heat.
under vaseline
from the waist down.
completely anhedonic
if not for my imagination
and its ironing capacity.
and i’d be a castaway
if not for the concrete.

Amanda Rothgaber's Questions:

Does the poem evoke a visual image?

Does the writing flow well and does it have an aural quality?

Is the poem too heavy-handed or cliche?

Is the idea of heat waves distorting one's view adequately conveyed?