Out of the Fire

Smoke and Mirrors

By Kat Everitt

trapped in this house upcountry for days

car packed with only the essentials 

only these raggedy memories that will fit

lord knows we cried so carefully

for we were not on fire 

not even evacuated though many

of our old neighbors in The Meadows

had gone down from the mountain 

at the first sign of smoke and there it is:

smoke. smoke. smoke. for days 

pale yellow skies in smoke. silence.

the silence is silver in the smoke and

mirrors all around us like the zombie 

invasion set of some ol' B movie 

from an imagined childhood where all

is supposed to be well 

and houses do not ever burn down

o will you look at that? dang fire is only 

four miles away and our neighbor can see 

its glow from his daughter's ridge. so, course,

they are going to go on down to the valley

where all of this is just a story told to be 

sad and to write "Heart with you, Friend" 

on totally crowded social media because, 

like bees, we are gathering what honey

we can, checking every hour or so with 

the sheriff's department, "Should we leave?

Is the Evacuation Advisement in place?..."

just like bees leaving the hive in this chaos,

fearful of the smoke-oils on the mirrors

all around us, reflecting our slim courage

leaving in our dreams. leaving for reals

because we can, because, we still can