YEAR 2025 Poem: Sweet Days Singed, by Elena Cherine

Steps on fallen petals in the sunny courtyard
roses and tulips, gone with winter
each step so soft
and now asleep so hard in the next room
I sip coffee and breathe on my own.

I open a window
sirens streak down Venice Boulevard
little birds call into the gusty evening–
a warning.

I am a mother now and my clothes map the day
my heart layers thick like full pots of red paint and swirling turquoise
I hold my baby gently when he wakes at midnight
pebbles striking the windows
we sit and rock in rhythm to the eerie wind requiem.

Ash falls, scraps of earth and mortar
drifting onto the foam puzzle pieces that line the floor of our balcony
my son’s wooden car, a single flower pot,
the plastic table lined with coffee rings
we bring it all in.

Little toes curling in sandy water
feeling the sea for the first time–
now we are barricaded indoors
breathing this air could lead to permanent damage
we strip the internet for information on how to keep his lungs safe.

I hold him tightly in my arms
rosebud cheeks and little lips
we zoom out of town.

Museums, indoor play places that end in exclamation points like
Explore IT! and Rivers and Lilies! FUN!
the Westfield Mall
we visit Target and Bath and Bodyworks
my son has learned to say “hi!” and “buh-bye!”
he greets all the shopkeepers
the Cinnabon employees know us by name.
Blossoming, my tiny flower
filled now with his own dreams.

Finally some relief
rain brings better air but alas,
my little son has stopped asking to go outdoors.