Bonfire Field, Burnsville, NC

The letters have let go
of their blacks and blues—
“-fornia drought”
is all that’s legible now
on the left-behind newspaper,
too wet to light still
after the morning’s rain.

*

Just west of home
the huge blue
mocks everything
thirsty.

Here under new clouds,
the houses around the field
wait, strapped in
with vines and climbing
roses, ready
for more.

*

The mountains beyond the field
were wiped away yesterday,
the two miles until them
crowded with smoke blown
this far southeast
from wildfires in Alaska.

Rainclouds—consider
storming just like that smoke
please, towards
the other coast?

*

Or actually, no not
yet—for now, never
mind.

In this field, when it rains
we fear losing
words, black bleeding into
blank space—not

*

real slippage: in California
sidewalks and coin-operated
binoculars slide
down the side of the continent—
above the bluffs, people
are inching their homes
back from the edge.

 

Caroline Kanner has always loved all fruits besides blueberries. This summer in North Carolina she tried a blueberry and realized that she loves blueberries too. She’s thrilled. Congratulate her at caroline.kanner@yale.edu.

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