What's happening is the upload of moment. 
You are inside the glancing blow, inside
the fetal pig. Ajar beyond the anointed
special ones who make their dice cast
a shadow on you. Haunted by ash
seen from the aircraft, rows of foundations
graying into dust, I own no golden 
paintbrush to bring back the hour
when the sunset 
swept fire colors over water
and everything was all right.

Kathryn Calkins writes poems and nonfiction pieces and lives at the northern edge of the Sacramento Valley. Her poems come from every day life.. She teaches Creative Writing, poetry, composition and literature courses at Shasta College and has an MFA from the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville. She writes to rekindle a love for the land after it has burned and also to find a way to refocus outside the din of politics. She wants her words to uplift.
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Published 16th July, 2025.