—after the 2018 wildfire in Curlew, Washington
and the photograph Curlew Witnesses Curlew Fire by Karen Elias
Near the confluence
of Long Alec Creek and the Kettle River,
the curlew watches its namesake—
town of one hundred—
as residents stare toward the west,
inhale fear.
Smoke rewrites the sky
where the curlew once flew.
Flames attack its map and habitat.
Ridgelines pulse with what is singed:
feathers, pines, mountains, horizon
streaked with regret
and the burnt promises
of those not there to witness,
the incineration of branch,
the contagion of spark,
the long, slow burn of loss.
O Curlew and curlews,
obscure enough to hide
once within these safe acres,
even you Grief has found,
even you.
This poem first appeared in Still Point Arts Quarterly (2023).
—
Professor Emerita of English at Commonwealth University, Presence assistant editor, and WPSU-FM Poetry Moment host, Marjorie Maddox has published 17 collections of poetry—including Transplant, Transport, Transubstantiation; Begin with a Question; In the Museum of My Daughter’s Mind; Heart Speaks, Is Spoken For; Small Earthly Space; Seeing Things; and Hover Here (forthcoming)—plus a story collection, 4 children’s books, and the anthologies Common Wealth: Contemporary Poets on Pennsylvania and Keystone Poetry. www.marjoriemaddox.com
