Under the soft glow of lights and mistletoe I sit;
an empty room, save for the romance.
Radiator too hot for PJs, but I won't have to get up
to light the fire. On the futon in my underwear
doing that thing I do best: sweat.
Outside the air is choked, and the ashes
add texture to the view: there it is, I could say,
the Christmas lights of windows twinkling on the hillside,
if I amuse myself. It rages on
and on.
All the water came back, but that was last year.
Remember the hallelujahs?
-2017 California wildfires
No comments:
Post a Comment