POEMS/ Out of Fire, 1961
Out of Fire, 1961
Hot winds are blowing down from the high desert—
this year’s Santa Ana.
I am waiting for our first child—
the relentless hot days and torrid nights
press hard on my swollen belly. The child
will not come, the winds will not stop
burning the air, drying the nearby hills.
The fire starts on a dry slope, and spreads,
We leave our stifling apartment,
go to a high roof-top to witness
the canyons burn, the trees explode
like rockets, first one house and then
another erupting in flame. We watch
the inferno hurdle from hilltop to hilltop
in a night sky red with fire and black
with soot and smoke. We see
birds fly up and out beyond the blazing hills.
Days later the child within me kicks
at the walls that hold him in. The fire
has flickered down to smoldering ruins,
the canyons blackened, bereft of life.
The sharp ember within me kindles,
quickens, swells, grows, and rages
until I am consumed by the burning
that grips tighter and tighter inside me—
I become all heat, all fire, and our son bursts free.
Published in Migrations (Antrim House, 2013) and The Mountain Troubador, 2013
Hot winds are blowing down from the high desert—
this year’s Santa Ana.
I am waiting for our first child—
the relentless hot days and torrid nights
press hard on my swollen belly. The child
will not come, the winds will not stop
burning the air, drying the nearby hills.
The fire starts on a dry slope, and spreads,
We leave our stifling apartment,
go to a high roof-top to witness
the canyons burn, the trees explode
like rockets, first one house and then
another erupting in flame. We watch
the inferno hurdle from hilltop to hilltop
in a night sky red with fire and black
with soot and smoke. We see
birds fly up and out beyond the blazing hills.
Days later the child within me kicks
at the walls that hold him in. The fire
has flickered down to smoldering ruins,
the canyons blackened, bereft of life.
The sharp ember within me kindles,
quickens, swells, grows, and rages
until I am consumed by the burning
that grips tighter and tighter inside me—
I become all heat, all fire, and our son bursts free.
Published in Migrations (Antrim House, 2013) and The Mountain Troubador, 2013