Wet Bulbs

This the test. Past the point
A wet bulb hits this high temp,
Three-five C and nine-five F,

Your flesh can’t sweat-off more heat,
You can’t self-cool, not by breeze,
Not when still as you can be.

At that temp, you start to die.
When the air on Earth gets there,
Folks will die who just sit there.

Here and there, a few hours now
Have met or passed this wet-bulb
Test. As more pass, less is left.

What lives will flood those free zones
Once you can’t breathe, not known yet,
Won’t be what you would have guessed.