poetry

cross-Tasman smoke

cross-Tasman smoke

at first it seemed low-lying cloud
like the grey embedded in Great Lakes life
a natural ceiling for a January day
but when I saw the sun
my heart slumped
that sick pink-salmon shade
that without fail means fire

it doesn’t matter how many oceans we cross
the earth everywhere is burning
still we recklessly slake our thirst for jet fuel
while the ash rains down on our hair

we should undoubtedly stay home
satisfied with others’ memories
but it feels like asking too much
to refrain from ever knowing
some of what is left

poetry

another climate crisis

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

poetry

hot hands

hot hands

he puts a gentle hand on my back
and I wait for its removal
patient, then im-
itching for the heated weighted palm
to move its imprint
burning like a night opps image
sizzling into my psyche
can you please not touch me
I finally say, apologetic yet curt,
it’s just too hot

poetry

snowman’s forecast

snowman’s forecast

it’s corn snow
barely packable
more the stuff of shave ice
than snowman

but they’re off
in one of the last drifts
packing their palms with icy white
till their warm blood goes cold
and skin burns red

in the end
he’s pint-sized and perky
stick arms aligned with the poles
pointing the way we’re headed:
a year with no winter
three summer solstices in a row