OVER HERE, AUTUMN BLAZE
--for Leslie &
Spencer Hatton
and
for Little Giant Fire #2
on the deck, making
my street
sign, Autumn Blaze,
the great maple,
its canopy a shield,
eats up the smoke,
leaves with their
five points extended,
working non-stop,
cleaning the air,
a miracle of
community organizing.
Air underneath
Autumn Blaze, clean.
Until I leave the
yard for the street
witness for Ukraine,
I don’t know
this myself. Smoke
from fires,
foul, dangerous like
the war—of
course—it’s part
of the war,
the fires. It’s
Thursday and I join
20-or-so others,
witnesses. This is their fifth
year of vigil, and I
joined them
last year. One can’t
see the Maple’s
work, but sitting
underneath it
one breathes free. I
have a new sign
today. I don’t
give my signs titles,
they’re working
signs, matter-of-fact,
you might call this
one, Chekhov
in Ukraine. I’ve
taken pastoral images
from his stories and
travel, details
that move my heart,
like this one:
‘a tall Ukrainian,
long-nosed, long-armed,
white shirt,
embroidered collar, balloon trousers,’
from The Steppe.
from a letter, ‘I am
completely
enchanted,’ on my sign.
These street signs
are shields,
after Hephaestus—his
immortal work
for Achilleus—that
shield, that one--
model for Ukraine,
workers harvesting
grapes, disrobing
young lovers--
you can hear their
kisses—and music
coming out of
streams of silver!
When I came back
from war
60 years ago, my
professor calling it
a newspaper—last
image Hector’s men
would see before
Achilleus’ sword
entered their
bodies--domestic. My street sign come
from this vision, on
cardboard,
disintegrating in
weather, hauled
in and out of the
car, ephemeral
in traffic,--but
make no mistake,
cut from the same
metal
Gods gave
Hephaestus—standing
with Ukraine,
standing against fires,
the one here in
Yakima Valley, Union Gap--
the one where you
live—that one,
too. And that war.
The war in Ukraine,
the same war, same
conflagration
as the one where you
live--
devastation reaching
from ocean
to ocean, blue-band
of water encircling
Achilleus’ shield,
magnificent
part for the whole,
leaping all boundaries.
Jim Bodeen
27 July—29 August
2026
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