The Thief

THE THIEF I circle you slowly, blow in dust from the south, I smother your nose, and breathe in your mouth. I force you to strangle, to spit up black mash, Stinging your tongue, turning lashes to ash. I can make myself hotter, I’ll broil your braids, then sauté your ankles, and french fry your legs . I’m subtle... at first! You won’t know I’ve begun. By the time that you catch me, I’ve already won. I lick your feet, with orange and red. I vortex upward, and shout “Oz” to the dead. I am ravenous and chew: your things as they burn, a dog or a bobble, your mom in her urn. I drink to absorb, your birdbath and dew, the juice from wild plants, and maybe from you. I spit out chimneys, some tiles, a plate. It’s nothing personal; it’s how I create. I devour round mountains, snack on redwoods and oaks, taste your clothing and groceries, and burp down cold cokes. I’ll see you next summer, when the solstice draws near! As you sleep on a beach towel, sip your tea, or drink beer. When your roses are plump and your sunsets are deep, I will rise from the Earth and I’ll take what you keep. -by Edlynn Nau ©August 27, 2018 Dedicated to all those enduring the California Fires.