Heat

You stooped in the morning 
For a piggy back and now it won’t let go
Its belly to your back
And sticky hands on your temples;
Heat is a heavy child

Slick on the cheek 
Your pores leak
Like ice caps
Heat slowly slaps
With lingering fingers
No cold sweat, only Heat lingers

Fat slovenly child Heat
Has been told to take some exercise
It hopscotches on your back
Pushing you down into the soft tarmac 
Of your mattress until you tell it to stop
Which. It. Won't.

Heat steals your spit
Then licks your neck
You tell it to stop 
But it laughs in your face
Ha Ha Haaaa

Heat is not screaming on the plane
Heat is not kicking the back of your seat in the car
Heat is not yammering away in the cinema
Heat is definitely not hiding in the supermarket chiller cabinets 
	Giggling among the frozen pizzas, planning to surprise you 
But when you leave these air-conditioned places
It hits you like responsibility.
Heat is a heavy child.

Apparently ‘Global Warming’ is a dirty phrase and ‘Climate Catastrophe’ is scare mongering. The Author takes a more extreme view – that intemperate temperature is something we could do without. He is not good with hot or cold, which leads Him to lethargy or hibernation, and is only moderately productive with moderate temperatures. That said, when 2025’s UK heatwave 2 of 4 hit, He appeared to enjoy casting an anthropomorphised Heat in these short pieces.

Quite explicitly The Author told an audience at Redacted:

I’m amazed that anyone could believe massive TVs, humvees, rockets and conspicuous consumption have no effect on the planet. Now that we feel the effect, I hate that it’s easier to claim it’s too late, or our efforts (however small) would make no difference. Most of all I hate the Heat. It disgusts me. I hope, by pinning it down and reading it out, you will feel my disgust – the way it invades your space, your body, your mind.

Its that kind of purpose in poetry that could drive people to think upon their actions’ impacts; drive them to stop driving, if you will; And perhaps a better poet would have turned out that kind of poem, but He continued:

That’s what I want for you all: That you might recall this, and have an awful time at the beach.

Yep. Not an eco-warrior. Just a sweaty misanthrope.

Addendum – Further stanzas were found scrunched up in the freezer including:
Little rain gets through The duvet over Thames Valley The reeking river mud wafts As Heat ‘dutch ovens’ us
Apparently the image of reeking duvets and ‘dutch ovening’ was considered too niche. A stanza well dropped.

Addendum-dum-daah – The heatwaves (plural, sustained) of 2026 provoked a reworking of the poem. I discovered this when the ice in my drink melted and started bleeding ink into the orange juice. I have rescued some from the freezer and now question what other foodstuffs have been adulterated with verse. Heat is now more clearly personified as a heavy child but as with the stanza above there are other directions He could have taken.

You are the proverbial Last pork scratching in a disappointing pack. Your flaking, oily skin, Puffy with polysaturates Cracks with a puff of salt Who has made you like this? If there is such a proverb, Heat coined it, And now dines out on you.

Heat spills its gut Over the kebab shop counter Smothers you with its greasy apron Pricks your skin with skewers Sweats the meat and wilts the salad Gives extra unasked for peppers And wraps you with it. Then, rather than asking for payment Says nothing - but gusts Warm breath to your lungs

Heat is not resting But closes its eyes in mock sympathy It wraps you like a duvet With an inappropriate tog count Tenfold your thin summer sheets'. Heat yawns encouragingly But will not let you sleep

You last saw Heat on holiday The hotel said it was unseasonable And helped you into the air-conditioned rental As they did to the record number of holiday makers

Heat swelters. It tells you so. Prods you with fingers like matches And says “Phew another scorcher” It holds your hand to its forehead And lies about how cool you are Heat is insistent

First draft circa Jun 2025

Rough performance time - 1 minutes, 40

Performed far too often

Date	Venue
26th Jun 2025	Books On The Rise
6th Jul 2025	Poetry Performance at The Adelaide
8th Jul 2025	Laureates Lounge, Staines
5th Jul 2026	Guilfest!
13th Jul 2026	Laureates Lounge, Staines