Imposition of Mars


A slow rise

First a curious fade,

Lifted over the city;

A foreboding front of ash and brume.

“Burnaby Mountain is on fire!”

One woman exclaimed,

“The mountain is ablaze,

And Kelowna, too!”

I stifled a retort

And took her order

“A glass of rosé”

Of course.


The rain ceased for days,

Choking the city sober

We swallowed campfires with our coffee;

Wildfire with our wine.


Entire mountains were washed away by a sky

That eventually eluded us all.

Cigarettes remained ruthless,

Spineless mothers of smoke and hell-fire

Meanwhile, under a bed-cover of oblivion,

Juno duped the Sun, exchanging her for Mars

Cut in half every night at nine forty-five.



In time, the fog casually dissipated

Leaving the horizon painted lazily

With fat brush strokes of indistinct grey.

The Sun, content with her new name

Glowed blood-orange, brilliant and burning

A perfect circle.


On Saturday

A cool rain came down.

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