Tonight's Poet Corner: Ninety Degrees

Ninety Degrees
by Belinda Roddie

No day
should be a right angle,
because nothing is remotely
correct about one o'clock
when it's too warm to even walk,
and every limb becomes lethargic,
and even
barbecuing burgers becomes a chore.
Give me seventy degrees, give me eighty -
an acute angle is perfect. And if you dare
go obtuse on me, I will swat you
with a swimming pool noodle.