~for my brothers
The sunrise is
a bruise, welcome
like a purpled eye if it relieves a child
of secrets. No rain
for weeks,
the sun beats trees
to bristling.
Sparks from cars like shouts
can burst
into fireballs.
One drought
devastates, attracts
bark beetles to feed on flesh
of trees. Ponderosa Pines brown
from top
down, host
woodpeckers, and
years later,
topple. Children grow
inside pocked flesh.
No matter how short
the drought, children,
like beer cans tattered
after target practice,
last beneath pine needles.
Record rain
cannot restore what a fist
or hunger hollows.
Kate Gray’s passion stems from teaching, coaching writers, and volunteering as a writing facilitator with women inmates. She is the author of two poetry chapbooks, two full-length collections, Another Sunset We Survive, which was a finalist for the Oregon Book Award, and a newly released collection, For Every Girl: New & Selected Poems, published by Widow & Orphan House. Her first novel, Carry the Sky, stares at bullying without blinking. Now she is writing through Sylvia Plath in a novel-in-progress, narrating what led to The Bell Jar and her suicide attempt. Kate and her partner live in a purple house in Portland, Oregon, with their impetuous dog. More info at kategraywrites.com.
