why yes, i bake things
(zucchini things in summer)
feels like Hell’s Kitchen
my oven burned me
burned us all with its heat spread
well, not anymore
that’s right, baby:
a 9×13 glass dish,
two 8-inch cake pans
this Breville will hold
a 12-inch cast iron pan
without burning us
worth every penny
(it’s not even Christmas yet)
boy am i ready
sometimes i think: Hell.
twenty days of solid heat.
(Denver in summer)
and then i recall
our glorious altitude
and misty mornings
i will swim for views
only captured here at home
(Denver forever)
what’s more beautiful—
this red, water-begging dawn
or my daughter’s grin?
each touched by showers
so desperate to soothe our souls
from this hellfire
if only these were clouds
not fucking with my haiku syllable count
but actually pouring down rain instead of smoke
if only we didn’t have cactus along the Front Range
to remind us of
how harshly we’ve parched this Earth
how we’ve stolen the sky with fires
how these are not clouds trying to hide
the ever-present sun
water still as ice
while wildfires choke sky
with climate change breath
oldest in college
(concurrent enrollment win)
(can remove spiders)
youngest wants hair cut
just in time for her birthday
my new career–ha!)
only this sunrise
shaped by feared wildfires
could make these strange scenes
Zoom meeting hell day
computers that will not work
need zucchini love
Zoom meetings drain me
but how sweet these tomatoes
and basil, with love
cucumbers are here!
and what better potatoes
than purple, from home?
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