A Fire in the Distance

Marianne Brems

The sky’s appetite is for blue,
but today it is like
stricken skin.
Shadows fail to cast
their crisp silhouettes.
The air crunches
like caramelized sugar,
between my teeth
while dark granules
obscure the luster
on the hoods of cars.

I breathe in
the distant odor of
torrid wood
but push it out at once,
aching to rid myself.
Though flames are far
and a bay lies nearer,
the acrid taste of dread
erupts.

I walk the edge
of unalterable events
that may
or may not consume me
but lurks in the distance
within the lawless appetite
of a reckless inferno.