Home > Archive > Issue 25

Drop in the Bucket
Nicole Walker

posted Oct 16, 2007

Until the first heat flattened
           then glass-paneled the sky
                      and grass and power lines
                      garage doors and garbage cans folded into one dry-cleaned pantsuit,

we had left our hope in the tree—
           muscled bark and held on
           each packet of cellulose
           a plan
                      an encouragement
a way out of the driveway
no check rearview mirror
           we meant for the driving
to take as long as the sun takes to make the tree
be
again
to make the thing
spired wet
crenellated business of height and season and color-collapse
turn fire.
The fire came first.
We had to give up the car.
And therefore, the driving.
You bit me because you were thirsty and who could blame you?
We hadn’t stored any water any other place.

© 2007 Nicole Walker