The sky is an orange haze. Miami
is cooler than she has been this
summer. Rain drips into the pool.
It is now filled with one thousand
rings crashing through one another.
A snake scrapes against the bottom,
sucking up scum and seeds.
Palm fronds wave in the warm,
wet wind, and suddenly, Kendall
Village’s last will-o’-wisp floats
towards me. She falls on my knee
and quietly sputters out. Whether
she sleeps or dies, I do not know.
I merely pick her up and lay her
by my side. Together, we watch
as our world slowly melts away.
by Michelle Lizet Flores
Being a native Floridian and current resident, Michelle Lizet Flores is happy to have returned to the land where trees don’t sleep. A graduate of FSU and NYU creative writing programs, she currently works as a 5th grade reading teacher where she fosters the next generation of American writers. She has previously been published in magazines such as The Miami Rail, Noble/Gas Qtrly, and Rigorous, and has work forthcoming in Gravel Magazine, Azahares, and The Bookends Review. Find out more at michellelizetflores.com.