By Ashleigh Hatter
I pour my coffee just like always/watching liquid dark fill every corner of this porcelain mug
Too hot to sip, so I let it sit and look outside my window/eyes finding grass and air, sky and rain
And somewhere far off, my gaze is drawn to fire and smoke/of a world outside, coming nearer to the inner
My house is rooted, like my teeth/it won’t be moved, not even to continue standing
Knuckles white, gripping the counter/there’s no chance to discard this foundation and run; no Promised Land for me
Smoke and heat and light, a destruction, a Hell/marches closer and all I can do is wait
Wait in the kitchen, watching it approach/while I wait for my coffee to cool.