Tonight's Poet Corner: Evacuation
Evacuation by Belinda Roddie Look how dark it is! I can't see past the scorched horizon, can't glean details save for the shadows charred into stained glass tree fragments - all color, no shape. And mostly, in the end, orange in hue. I'll hold you the entire ride to Grandmother's house, where we won't receive inferno's hot kiss, save from the desert afternoon's lips. Though it's still difficult to ascertain anything besides the endless haze, and the choking odor of rubber smoke, and the malaphor of burning the bridge when we get there.