Draught

by Julie Rogers

The sun, a coin flipping
deep in a pocket of heat
that won’t give. Newscast:
governor’s gruff voice
rations water, Sierra snowpack
dryer than a century
green hills starved in torch yellow
burnt hell in the woods
empty lakes, asphalt melts
as we slowly wash the dishes
and tend to ourselves
— turn off the faucet —
trying to figure
when it’s important.
How clean and fresh
is life ? Do I look right ?
Can I see myself ?