06: June 2015 #03 - emergency
Authored by Chelsea Fonden
on the first warm night we smelled the emergency, carrot juice dripping from the eaves. you called and called and i complained about sleep, mouth beetled at the fire tigering through basement papers. i am always praying for you to wake up, your yawn neck yoked back by nightmares. no good. i am restless as cornstalks and the sirens settle in circles, kill our crops, crop our dreams short, emergency pulsing in slats across your face. the bridge of your nose has become desperate, the fire a flood we can’t escape.