When the ocean rises, the seashore
disappears, the water never dousing fires
burning on in the beach. The white sands
are charred and black and the pretty little
girl freezes, howls caught in her throat.
When the earth is scorched by fires,
birds flee to other shores and bears
growl out of their caves, limited to
charred, bitter, exoskeletons of food,
their strength impaled, like the girl’s.
When she calls after the storm,
I strain to listen for fragments
of fear, my heart still aching after
all these years to make it better,
and my blind mind’s eye sheds tears