Smoke chokes. Dante would
invent a new circle
for us, blinded and coughing
from hundreds of fires.
Smoke strangles.
Home feels
less
hospitable,
unnerving—coerced to drive
with dialated
eyes—through the long
obscured valley.
Blotted out—lake,
traffic, and road
almost invisible.
Double misfocus.
Trees loom, ghostly
reminders.
No bird flies.
Where are their refuges?
Do they find shelter
by migration instinct?
How do we honor them
and our perceptions?
How do we,
breathing, choking on painful
errors, navigate?
by Elizabeth I. Riseden

Elizabeth I. Riseden's many addresses in varied places have obscured youth’s clarity. Out of desert sand storms, forest fires' smoke, and living, she has written through many shades of gray. She's also taught others how to write, and address uncertainty.
Dante would invent a new circle for us
ReplyDelete- Wonderful line. This is a really strong piece, I particularly like the way the poem acts in a concrete manner - like smoke down the page
lovely work