Trash Juice

Trash juice.
We used to rejoice for rain—
Desert wildflower blooms sprang overnight
And danced with petrichor,
To make their delight, their jubilance known to the world.
They were something you couldn’t ignore.

Trash juice.
We still rejoiced for rain—
Despite baked clay, flash floods, and wildfire ash streaming into the tributaries.
Our delight could be found
In the reprieve, the release of stifled
breath, the fleeting thought there is hope
We can still live here.

Trash juice.
Today I dream of petrichor
and the desert where I grew.
I take deep breaths and expect wildflower blooms
But I have moved
To somewhere I can live
And when I breathe
I am greeted by iridescent puddles
shedding the viscous scent of trash juice
pooling in the alley.

Back on the Coastline, East of Izmir
Peace