Fire Season
Polygamists discuss their crush sell fermented food
at the outdoor market. The women
must be hot in long dresses
long, buttoned sleeves. Winds gust
their large braids and fire
over the mountain, where 17 homes
already burned. Violent air
strung with smoke cracking
tree limbs and windowpanes raging
fires wars everywhere. Two bottles
of sauerkraut and a birthday in the back seat
topple in my rearview
signaling something: lazy lost
Feelings aren’t facts
I repeat to the mirror. Give the reflection
a high five— how silly. Somewhere
someone said this builds
confidence. Teens at the pool don’t mind
the heat of burnt skin, wind pushing fungus, bacteria
lawn chairs and blow-ups around. The boy
cannonballs, the girl splashes: I’m not
eating, not stopping until you can see
my ribcage. Can you see it?
Yes.
Can you feel it?
Yes.
All the yeses in the world seared
in atmosphere
I cannot hear
Yes.
Natalie Padilla Young co-founded and manages Sugar House Review. Her book All of This Was Once Under Water is available from Quarter Press (2023).
Read more poetry by Natalie Padilla Young in Terrain.org: “Great White Sharks Must Move Forward to Breathe” and “Bird of War.”
Header photo by pandpstock001, courtesy Shutterstock.
