The
fires took four more houses down last night,
your
fragile desert landscape up in flames.
They’re
miles away, we’re safe, you set me right.
The
darkling sky looks like a storm to me.
Your
cat just ate a spider and licks his face,
they
hide in the darkened corners of your garage.
But
still, I watch the sky above our game.
You
made a triple word score with a Z
and
remind me where we are; it’ll never rain.
People
have to have some place to stay
desert
rats without the sense to flee
and
water is cheap pumped in from far away
to here
where fires feed on the dead and leap the pass.
(I
tried to feed my X to that hungry three-legged cat)
No
looming thunderstorm those kites of black.
You
remind me where we are; it’ll never rain.
The
fires took four more houses down last night.
I have posted this for Earthweal's first weekly challange: Fire
bearing witness to Earth's changing climate which is escalating beyond the most conservative scientist's expectations.
21 comments:
This is a really fine account and response to life in communion with fires through ash and smoke. Location is indeterminate here -- perhaps it doesn't matter any more -- could be the Australia coast or a Great Lakes shore. I'm guessing the former, it works both ways. The tension which edges round the dailiness (Scrabble game, cat nearby) is ramped from multiple sources -- lack of rain, water supplies pumped in, four houses burning down somewhere). Marvelously structured and ominous as hell.
Thanks Brendan!
It's actually California and though I wrote it some time ago, it's even more relevant today. Too many people living in places that can't support human life in any sort of sustainable way. Thanks for hosting and for commenting.
A kind of fear grips us when we read "They’re miles away, we’re safe" and "it'll never rain." What a contrast of attitude! Also love the snippets of life in other images.
Enjoyed in a sad sort of way. How much worse it all becomes as predictions come true.
Ah, mythic--somewhere burning while humanity plays scrabble and rescues cats. I too am that scrabble player reminding myself the fire is elsewhere. But southern California burned, and northern, and Canada and overall, the fire isn't that far away. We breathe in the pollution while we try to stay upright. Mighty fine poem. It drew me right in, and then its structure knocked me over the head with that almost casual "four more houses."
Susan
Thank. None of it is that far away. Thank you thank you.
Tony,
Thank you so much! How much worse does it have to get before our government and people wake up?
Sumana,
And thank you and thanks for commenting.
The daily snippets in this poem make it really work - great impact, we go through our daily routines with the fires edging ever nearer. B.C. gets wildfires too, and the California fires are always in mind. Summers are getting hotter everywhere. I live in a rain forest where there was no rain for TWO YEARS. Finally, this year we are mercifully getting some. Over the pass is the valley where my sister lives, with horses, and only one road out. They get fires, and her constant nightmare is that of trying to get her horses out on a clogged highway between the flames. Your poem really hit home because that is how life goes on, in the midst of crisis - the daily bits, the constant being-on-edge, the attempt at reassurance, the knowledge that there really is none. Well done!
I like the contrast between the small every day things, and the apocalyptic events. It's hard to hold both of them in mind at once, but we do, swinging between them all the time.
Your poem speaks of trying to find balance in the everyday events and the bigger events evading a place of comfort. There are different degrees of climate depending on the area but, we will all feel the wrath of change.
there's something terrifying about dystopia becoming the new normal.. so normal that the scrabble and spider eating cat are normal fixtures in post-apocalyptic landscapes.
Sarah,
Thank you for commenting. I think we do the small every-day things to block out the apocalyptic ones we increasingly hear of every day.
Truedessa,
Trying to balance the commonplace against the catastrophic was what this poem was about. Or my attempt at the same. You're right about the different degrees of climate change we'll experience, depending on our location. We've already notice an abundance of insects that in past years would have been killed off in winter. What lies ahead?
Thotpurge,
Whatever the cause, I don't like the new normal.I don't like smoke in the air or my seeds washed into the ditch. I want to grow what my grandmother grew, not sweet potatoes!
Thanks!
My sister lives in Australia. I could have written the first two lines...but even though she is 200 miles away from the closest current fire, they watch. Dry lightening is a very real fear she has lived with for the 40 years she's been there. Very well written, Yvonne.
Your rhyme scheme and structure here remind me of the power of form--tho I can't pin down if this is an old or invented one--and hammer the nails in line by line of every ignorant hurt and bit of waste that has brought us to this place. Unsustainable, indeed, and yet we fight like madmen to sustain it. The way you weave in the cat motif, and Scrabble game is really effective. A fine bit of writing for a terrible time. Thank you for salvaging this for us.
Very Dystopian! And all too likely.
Sherry,
I thought I'd already responded to your comment, which, as always, is vastly appreciated. It's interesting to hear from someone who resides almost on the opposite side of the continent yet experiencing the same abnormal events. Thanks again.
Liza,
Dry lightning? Yes, okay, I think I know what you mean. Thanks a lot.
Hedgewitch,
Thank you! Yes, I've often labored over the power of form, a good exercise, many of which stretch the limits of our capability. Do you suppose we can invent our own? I'm glad you liked it. Thanks again.
Rosemary,
I don't think I used to know what dystopian meant. Maybe I have a dystopian subconscious. Now that's a scary thought. Thank you for commenting!
Yvonne, your poem reminded me, of the Fort McMurray fire (2016), which in two days from detection, forced the evacuation of 88 000 people, from this tar sand mining community. Guess, humanity is a lot like frogs, in the boiling pot of water. We only realize the damage, afterwards, when its too late.
Therisa,
Thank you for your comment.The tar sands controversy is a whole other issue, or perhaps just more of the same. Frogs and canaries....a connection there too. Thanks!!
Oh the mundane scrabbling while waiting for the fire to come... in the end we are all on the edge of disaster
Perfect. Sadly.
Brudberg,
Yes, indeed, life goes on, in some fashion. Thank you.
Marian,
Thanks.
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