Lori Messenger Poems

We are strange,
We travel in packs,
We have matching shirts and rituals.
Home is on the fire line
...

Returning from fighting
the West End Fire,
I walked in to find
My daughter and my husband
...

The door of Jump 16 opens to an unnerving roar,
Swings aside and reveals five hundred acres of fire
Crowning in black spruce
Orange tongues of burning gases lick high into the air.
...

You flirt
And consort with me
You breathe the ash
Of fire at my arrival
...

Bad stuff happens on the fire line,
You think you're in mop up mode,
All of a sudden you're at the head of the fire.
Nothing is a sure thing.
...

Turning you hold your arms up
My eyes touch where you turn
The shouts from the fire line crew
And the collapsing column of smoke
...

On the chaise lounge
Beer in hand
Watching air tankers rotating in and out of firebase.
After Friday night's dry lightning storm
...

Like the movies where the giant octopus
Grabs the hero’s leg
A silver white plume streaks through the tall weeds
Leading me
...