Where and Where Else

By Michael Lauchlan

A friend drops by to borrow a chainsaw
He asks how I am and I don’t 
shout that the west is burning 
because he knows for God’s sake
maybe better than I do                Instead, we talk 
about our kids growing and I don’t even
mention Phoenix where it’s 108 
in the theoretical shade           because I love 
my friend        who needs to rush home 
to clear a limb off his garage—how 
lucky that it missed the girls’ room
Then he goes off to his loud work
and quiet descends      What enters: 
a crackling and a crash
Here in the non-desert of Michigan   
it’s raining and the backyard’s 
flooded again and mosquitoes 
have declared a year of Jubilee 
with their roar and their fangs 
which remind me that I’m here 
alive     slapping at my bald scalp 
as though I could do otherwise          
as though the voracious 
flying herd could relent

---

Michael Lauchlan has contributed to many publications, including New England Review, Virginia Quarterly Review, The North American Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Sugar House Review, Louisville Review, Poet Lore, Lake Effect, Bellingham Review, and Southern Poetry Review, His most recent collection is Trumbull Ave., from WSU Press (2015).