Volume 8, August 2013

Jen ColemanView Contributor’s Note

The Fires of 2010

Why talk
of time
zones, what

the apocalyptic
heat has done
for this summer’s

peach crop, all
the things I want?
Is the fall

visible from here—
through leaves
turned too soon,

the white glow
of a sickle?
Do you know

how last night
late (to think
of the morgues

in Moscow tepid
and packed,) I
unsteadily slunk

to bed (you
moving deliberate
in amber air,

scrubbing ash
from your
skin) alone?