Image source: CTV News Vancouver |
morning sky furred by a pale layer so the sun is deep orange
sailor take warning firefighter take warning
a layer so thin it passes over the Strait like hands giving blessing
but five miles distant there is no more island
heat even in the northlands begins to rise to spread
to reach inside where breath scrapes one’s throat
there is so much dried to a crust so anguished and tight
it resists water that could save it it will shed
the chemicals of desperation in the gray understory
of neglected woods it will begin to die
all by itself even without the fire stringing its way underneath
the bones of grass the shattered nests
of starved quail and under the lost tooth of a coyote
that could no longer run death of the hunter
death of the stands of cedar and fir of alder and salal
death to us all take up the shovel
and begin to dig a fire line not yet needed on this acre
but what fell from human grasp will soon blow here
Jayne Marek’s first full-length poetry book is In and Out of Rough Water. Her poetry and art photos appear in About Place Journal, 3Elements, Sin Fronteras, Notre Dame Review, Sliver of Stone, Spillway, Tipton Poetry Journal, Central American Literary Review, and elsewhere.