Anthem for standing in the ceiling: California
burning at both ends, not as a metaphor
but as fire. Up the ladder a text arrives,
big fans on the 26th floor pushing dusted
air from one side to the other. Bay: a bed
of smoke the boat wakes float in, hope faintly
in the form of a text arrives. In the haze, cars,
buses crawling, double-length to standstill.
Not what I hoped, a flag of plastic flapping
downwind of the fans. California not
as in candle. In my anthem for double-length
standstill, up a ladder, boat wakes in a bay
smoked, ferries congregate at pierside in the state
of both ends burning. What I hoped, a text arrives—