More from Mars and Her Children
“The world is a womb, hot and wet
and laboring to be delivered of August,
panting, grasping in the fever of afternoon,
sizzling night sweats and poached mornings.”
Piercy, Marge. “Hot, hotter.” in the collection, Mars and Her Children. Page 67.
The rest of the short poem is — to me — erotic. Perfect evocation of August.