fall 2018 / Poetry 2018 / volume 49

Heat Waves—Eric Greinke

A prolonged heat wave
brings order to our days.
Here in the northern woods
we’re not used to hot weather.
We write letters
through cool morning,
swim through
the hot afternoons,
toss through warm nights.

A big red fire engine
blares down
our two-lane road.
Its tires burn rubber,
leaving black brush strokes
as it rounds the corner
In a rush to engage
the flames in combat.
We hope it’s not too late.

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