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MALIBU,
NOVEMBER
by ellen
Waves move in the dark
No moon, no light
No luminous whitewater
The Santa Anas have come
Leave
Torn branches, other people's trash
Newspaper pages, plastic bags
Take-out food containers
Garbage can lids
Recyclable aluminum
The winds are mad
Intrude through the spaces
In my house
Leave particles of sand
Use up all my moisture
What do the birds do
In such fierce wind
Ground animals must burrow
Gentle horses must shut
Their eyes and pray
No good comes
Of these winds
But a falsely clear sky
Where a red line of smog sits
On the Channel Islands
Certain seeds need fire
To germinate
And survive
I'm not sure I can adapt
To this autumn place
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