pacific northwest bakes // starbursts this fine

bluebird day // sometimes violence isn’t bruise 

or blood // sometimes it’s a whale pushing her 

dead calf through once-cool waters // sometimes it’s the droop of dahlias in our grandmother’s       

garden // missing the scurry of earwigs in our

summer bouquets // red moon // red sky // red sun //

and nowhere to run // sometimes it’s a teenager chucking fireworks down the gorge // or smoky ash

on playgrounds where children cough red rover // sometimes it’s an omega block broiling

our bones // combusting on the shore of our

careless days // do you remember // once // twice beneath damp cedars // long leash of seal in

sun-green kelp // incoming tide on our tongues