STATE FLAG

They shot the last grizzly on Mt. Diablo
because somebody said it was there.

Cut off from the salmon.
In a world of no elk.

Watching the marshes drained,
the river made straight.

This is a strawberry.
These are grapes.

That’s the canal,
cutting to Stockton.

The black smoke is oil.
The brown is oak.

Rent a self-driving car
and ride it to the top.

Look out—
a land where all the beasts are gone.

By Nicholas Kasimatis

Biography:

Nicholas Kasimatis participated in Kim Addonizio’s workshop “Art of the Short Poem.” He graduated from Cal Poly at San Luis Obispo with a bachelor’s degree in architecture and has worked as a construction engineer, gallery attendant, and art director. After the day job and the joys of being a husband and father, Nick spends his time fly-fishing, painting, and writing.