Squash Blossoms
after wildfire season, 2020
My toddler says look at the little fires—
squash blossoms in the garden
little fires in dugout canoe boats
lined one by one, sea-waving
little fires going off
squash blossoms pinning my clavicle
a pollen-pressed ribcage
little fires, loamy mounds
squash blossoms hand-in-hand
stuck between smoke stacks
squash blossoms eating breath
like little fires, so many owies.
My toddler says look at the little fires—
squash blossoms in the garden
little fires in dugout canoe boats
lined one by one, sea-waving
little fires going off
squash blossoms pinning my clavicle
a pollen-pressed ribcage
little fires, loamy mounds
squash blossoms hand-in-hand
stuck between smoke stacks
squash blossoms eating breath
like little fires, so many owies.
Lisa Marie Oliver lives and writes in Portland, Oregon. Her poems have recently appeared in Book of Matches, Rogue Agent, and Sweet Tree Review.
Art: Public Domain
