As for Judy who dropped off the kitten, thank you. There was a victory march to the garden where we raked the leaves and never once talked about providence or plots. It isn’t the rising waters we worry but how the drought has given way to landslides, broken bridges. The drought used to churn a fine red dust over the wings of airplanes but now the mice have come out of hiding, their homes probably destroyed. Hence the kitten. We should have known, are sort of flattered when our names are read out loud (such enunciation) but with the next apocalypse coming it’s all such a rush-rush and shift of attention from one small trouble to the next. Sometimes it’s all we can do to stand and listen as the clear-cut voice of the homeland belt out another rendition of Dixie. Funny how the sound reaches to the far end of the food court & rumbles over this pixilated din.
Michelle Murphy lives in Reno, Nevada. She is the author of the chapbook The Tongue in its Shelf (Standing Stones Press) and full-length collection Jackknife & Light, (Avec Books) which was shortlisted for the National Poetry Series as well as the PEN West Literary Award. Poems have appeared in numerous online and in print publications including The American Journal of Poetry, ZYZZYVA, Barzakh and a chapbook (portfolio) in VERSE journal as a finalist in the 2015 Tomaž Šalamun Prize.