fire danger high today
the arms of the bosque form a temple
site a dim sage sap a gentle
fiery teacher
in yesterday’s burn, the wild flames
jumped the river
danced for acres with ache
as I loaded my car in the event
it touches,
to return to this network of trees
(who make way for each other
who weep with wind for what was blackened)
is to discover a spiral of mulberry
a pocket of decadence
within a realm of filtered light
find me humming through the bush
with a basket dog paws painted purple
find me whispering to laden branches
beside a yearning
besides, a small dark-faced bird
ordering “come here”
motioning come here thumb, two fingers
also purple after having been motioned
by a soft breeze
by a silent ask to be unburdened
enjoyed
the tree that bears fruit is not withholding
despite the loss a shock of death
reverberating through root system
despite the taking,
mulberry is a generous and hungry lover
glutton for giving shouting for touch
I want to be consumed in a way
that is safe
in a space without smoke
in the shade of a cottonwood
in the slit of the bark
Copyright © 2022 by Jaye Elizabeth Elijah. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 8, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.
“New Mexico is on fire. In the wake of a wildfire in the bosque, I returned to another stretch of forest, the path leading to a bramble of mulberry. This is a poem about finding lovers in the aftermath of grief. What might we receive if we give fully of ourselves in pursuit of reciprocity? This is a poem interested in moments of connection and pleasure at the end of the world. What lessons about tender loving care might we bring with us into uncertain futures?”
—Jaye Elizabeth Elijah
Jaye Elizabeth Elijah
Jaye Elizabeth Elijah is a poet from Cincinnati, Ohio living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. They are an editor-at-large at Nightboat Books.