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In The Seventh Month,

it is stifling overnight.

Open lattices

alleviate the chaleur.

Any Peeping Tom

can lift up the Iyo blind.

An intuition

alerts me to a voyeur.

He attempts light flirtation;

is riled by froideur.

His ‘relationships’ short-lived,

make him think all girls

are relative push-overs.

I’m not, so I draw the blind.