Reeling

For the residents of Slave Lake, AB.

sweaty fingers
slipping on the car handle

burnt plastic smoke
sour on your tongue

yips
from what could be the dog

following Marie from room
to frantic room or the kids, clutching

their phones
like they were going to text the fire

out, earbuds still in.
there.

the car door
swinging slow slow an accordion

wheezing open.
The light

flickers on. you turn
your head your nose

streaming.
COME ON. NOOOW.

And they spill out the back door
in gouts like a thumb on the end

of a hose
and there is fire in your peripheral

vision as you swing
into the drivers’ seat and stab

the wrong key at the ignition
and there is fire

three doors down and the sky
is full of ash

and sparks
as you scrabble the right key

into the slot
and black plastic smoke

makes you weep
as you rev the engine into screaming

life and it is three slow steps
to the car

and you have idled in the driveway
before, sat and honked

and waited for them
and as you drive

away
from the fire, listening to their ragged

breaths
and small exclamations

at the fireworks of right angles
of wood siding brick vinyl siding

going up
as you drive away

from the tree you mulched
every year the tree and everything

every thing else
you have

going up
you’d like to bottle

their hesitations, their ragged
breaths

and as you lurch onto
the highway

sniffling, trying not to speed
or drift into the other lane

your daughter says
“Dad I’m not wearing my seatbelt!”