emergency

by Chelsea Fonden

on the first warm night
we smelled the emergency, carrot juice dripping
from the eaves. you called and called
and i complained about sleep, mouth beetled
at the fire tigering
through basement papers.
i am always praying
for you to wake up, your yawn
neck yoked back
by nightmares. no good.
i am restless as cornstalks
and the sirens settle
in circles, kill our crops, crop
our dreams short, emergency pulsing
in slats across your face. the bridge
of your nose has become desperate,
the fire a flood
we can’t escape.