droughts come on faster, study finds
—new york times headline April 13, 2023
i’ve been saving water for you. hoard
is an ugly word. been collecting the rain.
lugging buckets up from the lake. storing
it by the gallon in plastic milk jugs & old
2-liter Pepsi bottles. i’ve funneled the melting
snow into the cedar-lined closets of your child-
hood home. packed the Coleman cooler tight
as sardines with icicles snapped from the gutters.
gone back to the days of a kept brick in the toilet
tank. a collection of pots arranged strategically
on the shower floor. next time you come home
you should take some back with you. just in case.
i know people will say it’s too soon & you don’t
have to do this yet. i hope i’m wrong. i hope somebody
smarter than me has a better plan. i’ve just never been
one of those who could choose to ignore the dangling
yet.
Portrait of a Zucchini in a Heat Wave
lawns browned the color of straw
nothing flaps or sways drag the dog
on a sad walk pressed
by the heat past covered garbage
cans erect and boiling at the curb
nothing swings or ripples
ghost neighbors hunker
behind the white noise
of central air rain barrel
empty my husband lugs an orange 5
gallon bucket up and down the stairs
from the shower to the dehumidifier tray
hauls water to the frazzled patch out back
picks one slender squash under un-
promising skies bright green
and still warm I slice it thin
spritz oil shake
salt grind pepper scatter
garlic powder roast
@ 400 degrees 20 minutes
later at the dining room table
we savor the flavor
caramelized & earth-
gifted
& summoning
the smallest hint of a breeze.
_________________
Susan Barry-Schulz grew up just outside of Buffalo, New York. She is a physical therapist living with chronic illness. Her poetry has appeared in SWWIM, Barrelhouse online, Shooter Literary Magazine, Bending Genres, B O D Y, Gyroscope Review, Quartet, Iron Horse Literary Review, West Trestle Review, and elsewhere.
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