This poem is taken from Stand 222, 17(2) May - June 2019.

Jean Eng Two Poems
Climate Thief

June behaves more like
November as vortices churn
the sky. Our city darkens, pelted
by ice beads. Street lamps turn on
mid-afternoon—then bars
of light strobe through clouds.
Vanished heat returns.

The temperature spikes so
often we sleep like preparations
for fall: deep, hunkering, and padded.
But awake, compulsions rise to
finish, gather and clean as if
everything left undone
now— will be too late.

We can peaches yet to bloom,
remove air conditioners
...
Searching, please wait... animated waiting image