California Burning

The sun, a bloated tangerine,

     drowns in a skyline flushed with ash.

California breathes herself.

 

We choke our lungs with detritus –

     a fog that was, just hours ago,

the attic beams of someone's house,

 

a wedding portrait on the mantle,

     her manuscript, half-finished,

the cat that wasn't saved.

 

Tequila Sunset, grenadine horizon.

     We turn to watch our sun engulfed

in flame, and swallowed whole.

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