I smelled the smoke first—
wood fire wafting on the wind
then the sky darkened
like the angry face of Jove
and bright spears of flame
shot to the heavens.
Why look to me?
It was not I
who sparked the blaze.
Blame those others
with their foreign ways,
and the fools who built
their hovels out of wood.
When the refugees
from the city drew near
with their shrieks and moans,
their stink of charred flesh
I barred the door
and taking the fiddle from the table
as was my habit
began to play.
is the author of four picture books for children, as well as fiction, poetry, and
non-fiction for adults. Her recent work has appeared in California Quarterly,
KYSO Flash, I’ll Take This Word and Make It Mine, and Digging Our Poetic
Roots; has been performed by Off the Page Readers Theater; and has been nominated
for a Pushcart Prize. Lisa lives in Northern California.
⚡
At the Pacific Air Museum, a prose poem in KYSO Flash
(Issue 12, Summer 2019); nominated for The Best Small Fictions 2020