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BRIAN TEARE

The Fire

i
I kept thinking the feather
when I found it on the path

more blue in the jay’s wing

 

ii
the eucalyptus downed the power line and brought flame
to bracken the deer leapt out of into the field past houses

people in their creased pajamas emerged from thinking
smoke I smell smoke fire by then louder than the coming sirens

 

iii
when we euthanized the cat
I held her and found nothing

changed its soft brown neck
being met non-being warm

wet where my face had been

 

iv
I don’t know the rules I think but I follow them down hill
into extravagant thistle from which a deer startles a spark

struck from flint fear mostly moves faster than predators
on the trail home I encounter for the first time a coyote

wild exactly the color of July in these hills a bit ragged
unhurried it stopped and turned toward me full of bones  

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   Contributor’s notes

   The Argument
   The Fire
   The Scab
   The Stairs

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