“Tamarack Fire”
I upload again and again
the little circles on the map
representing their air—
(my children in their tents—)
cursing when red turns
to purple, praying to the god
I pray to, which is no god,
which is the vast smoky sky,
for orange, then yellow. Let me
be so bold as to pray
for green.
(Children in their tents are not a metaphor. The fire burning thirty miles away is not a metaphor.)
(What will reach them and what will not reach them is not the question. I am one hundred fifty miles away, 3 hours 18 minutes’ drive time in current traffic.)
(I sit, then stand, then sit. They’re probably in the rec hall now, playing board games so as not to tax their lungs—)
The fire was not
considered a danger when it
ignited on a rocky hilltop, and so it was left
to burn. Wind, heat,
the big empty sky
drew a path into the forest—
______________________________
Smother by Rachel Richardson is available via Norton.
