“there are many things that I did wrong
I know that now
but reality should share the blame
it too has changed”
my mother and I
throw open the doors of the house
still hot from the previous
day’s sun manufacture
to the cooler morning air
reeking of campfires
from forests burning all over Oregon
smoke swings the chime
gap and a shadow where the mountain
formerly rose,
the grays of the air arranged
in order of distance flat against the ridges
our peaches are going to taste of smoke this year
we are trying to get used to it
and the truth for which
we have been preparing the children
is even now preparing to shift
1 comment:
This hits home. The sky is mud and the smell of smoke is everywhere.
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