deprived
wake me when it’s critical
Cedar says
I’ve felt that way for years
and still won’t put myself to bed
every moment of consciousness
feels critical as it is
another climate crisis
dappled sun on sidewalk goes orange
and our eyes jerk up to sky –
that eerie fire light
filtered through smoke again –
I see the wavelength change before I smell it
and my heart tenses and stomach sinks
we are meant to run from this
not choke on smoke summer after summer
Colorado Alaska Sydney Medan –
wherever we go
the flames are there:
lodgepole cones explode
eucalypts ignite
jungle succumbs to palms
and now the whole fat squashed disk
of this country/continent
glows garnet red on the heat map
the only cool blue left
is boiling ocean
the men in suits clamp their ears shut
to not hear the crackle
to ignore the girl in braids
who demands they be bold by being humble
admit they’ve upset a balance
put too much black coal on the ledger
run everything into the red
red panda in the sprinkler
his sleek black stomach
begs a caress
cinnamon coat goes scruffy
in the spray
upturned mouth stretches
a gleeful wet face
into a weak smile
while sparks of sun
splash everywhere
opera house
shells returning the sound of the sea
echoing the breath
trumpeting the news
cradling pearls of reflected human forms
each made from the uncomfortable itch
of grit worried around until
layer by slow painstaking layer
a round rainbow-hued orb
smoothed out the rough patch
& turned injury into art
city trees
trees are different here, massive
sometimes they have memories
they’re big bulky beings to be reckoned with
spared from any axe or plow
sentries sentinels sentient
and their crowns that peer around
make an acre of shade
not-so-distant sea
the unmistakable blue band
of watery bowl beyond
the this-and-that of land
is even better when
dashed here-and-there
with white hyphens
of bubbling surf