the air swam a little different
in the days following the fire
as though held in a state of
impassioned disbelief
an imposed shock
or awe
–
in breath not quite lost but
caught – by oils, and the scene of now blackened embers, charred brick
beams of the roof reduced to gentle crumbling piles, flakes
and narrow pits, their
boisterous confidence
quieted with that of the
surrounding wilderness.
The flat shape of fields all
but silent and the dim lines
of houses with eyes turned firmly inward.
we were laying on a road –
we were laying on a road –
as the flames licked the sky
you took my face against the skin of your chest and pressed it there, still
while I shook and shook
into the universe
Spreading Fire
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