Today we feature three poems by Julia Baker, which were written during the long-lasting California drought from 2012–2017.
I had forgotten the music of water touching earth.
My tears have been the only rain.
Drought is slow death, shroud of smoky sin
keening between the mountains.
“In the red,” they say:
“Air unfit to breathe”
Bodies are made for the taking in,
Valley lungs are dust. Read more