Someone outside coughs
It hasn’t rained in weeks
The clouds in the oven are burning
People are dying
The drought rages on
She twirls another round about the kitchen
Six trees fell today
The shade does no good,
When occupied by so many bodies
She’s opened a window to let out the smoke
The clouds are smoldering lumps of blue
Everyone prays for some moisture
She strips off her shirt and pants,
Wears nothing but a bra and shorts
I muster the energy and strength to walk,
Exhausted,
Into our kitchen
Find six oven mitts,
Three for each hand
Pull out the clouds
When I toss them into the sky,
They fall to the earth again
Catch fire
The beautiful blue clouds aren’t coming back
I go back into the kitchen,
Flop down on the floor,
And look at her
“Barbie,”
I say,
“Why are you doing this?
You’re going to melt.”
quixotic
