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      February 21, 2021All My Stresses Live in TexasClemonce Heard

      Now I’ve seen everything:
      Ivy sagged like an IV neck-
      lacing the windows of the burning
      house; snow killing my neighbor’s
      cacti in their terracotta pots
      dwarfing the one my friend sent
      a picture of, lampshading a pillar
      candle cordoned off by a coup-
      le of cinder blocks that would help
      heat his house in a blackout
      if it was 10,000 sq. ft. smaller. Trans-
       
      former state senator feels no way
      about the system he helped deregu-
      late over two decades ago.
      Says he’s only lost power tw-
      ice since then, & notes how,
      hunched over, he makes coffee
      in his fireplace. I counted two rats
       
      sniffing around my cracked porch,
      curled inside my idling sedan.
      I spoke to Wisconsin, who s-
      aid she smelled gas the same time
      I smelled burning wires & thought
      it was my battery I hadn’t replaced
      before I’d left the Midwest.
      How I’d wished it wasn’t the alt-
      ernator as it was in the negatives
      that day, & I’d have to take so much
      out to get to the problem.

      from Poets Respond

      Clemonce Heard

      “This poem responds to the Lone Star State’s decades of insufficient power reforms. I recently moved into an uninsulated house in San Antonio. My neighborhood was one that lost power, so I decided to sleep in my car. The next thing I knew, the power had returned, and the back of my neighbor’s duplex was on fire. I thought just how insular a Troy Fraser or a Cancun Ted Cruz has to be to believe preparation is not essential because they possess the resources to cushion the failure.”