by Khadija Anderson

blaze

I had to
jump out the window
over and over
brittle and bouncing
another chaparral
fire
sent me running
the blaze
if there had been
a curtain
I could have stood
pretending
it was sunlight
but your fingers
always there
threaten to start

some other days

some days
we reach deep into the canyon
oaks filter sunlight
catch a frog in high grass
ladder up a check dam
broken glass and trash
laughing children
wild rosemary and laurel
a small stream to follow
twisting up crossing over
it is spring and not brown yet
other days I lie on the floor
unable to speak
twist down a different path
no sunlight
no frogs

Khadija Anderson returned last year to her native Los Angeles after 18 years exile in Seattle. Her poetry has been published in print in The Ursa Major Poets Anthology, The Ticket, and The Ark Magazine, and online on Unfettered Verse, Washington Poets Association’s online Whispers & [Shouts], CommonLine Project, Here & Now, Gazoobitales, Gutter Eloquence and forthcoming in Qarrtsiluni. Khadija is a featured reader in and around Seattle and Los Angeles and attends Antioch Los Angeles’s MFA program. Khadija was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.