under the weight of fire air

                the sky collapses

ashes caress the porch

                enticing open

hungry mouths of cloth masks

                left for essential workers

​

unessential I breathe

lingering singed scent of

                left-over air

 

unessential I stay inside

                waiting for a lost train

instead a frayed platform

                a board of broken numbers

                a carpet bag of torn tickets

​

before the fires

I would breathe through windows

                thrown open to dreams

the sound of a distant train

                panting on a still night

sniffing broken rails wild-eyed

                for a way home

 

lemons are dropping from

the backyard tree

                the weight of fire air

in their pretty yellow dresses

                I would take them to parties

 

you can still remember

                frayed thoughts

what it was like

                a way home

 

the train licks its burnt paws

on tracks overgrown

                with missed connections

 

the fire alert system keeps calling

and hanging up

                a frayed platform

                                   

maybe the numbers

will click into place

I wonder what to do

                with all the lemons