Cinders

This little cloud
With it’s papery lungs
Went up in cinders at it’s first breath…
It couldn’t hold the light from the prairie fire burning brightly below
Gangling… breathing hard, the fawn
She took a cautious step then spilled full frame into the kitchenette,
Feet slippery from the ash
The glass snake cut the ash…
Carved ribbons around the smolderings…
Only to tie a knot at my feet in a pool of gasoline
The pines went up with a «hush»
Then slow-burned, whimpering
I was a flurry of cinders pulled in ribbons from the car
You were tiny anchors at my sleeve