The Fire

Do you recall the fire? The night when you were sick?
You waved your arms and shouted to your father, «Fire, quick!»
You won your first reward, the salty singing sweet of sugar sores
That house is where we lived till 1986
I’d surfed on waves of apprehension. Ameliorate the wind
Apologize for snow. In the place where winter has to go
The jagged sandy breeze. The insect sucking trees
The cigarette butt beach rat camoputer van. (You're going nowhere.)
I left at 23 to be whom I might be
I left for reasons almost spoiled by telling stupid lies
The window showed his eyes
The sound of TV, talking suffocating mother’s cries…
Now I will not be told. Exploited, tricked, or sold
You’ll burn before I’m old
I’m a tree that poisons paper. I’m a river that is angry as it’s wide
Is there nothing left to save here? Will we ever know until it dies?
I made the journey home. The house sat as it was
I wrenched the sill and raped the vinyl. A rough and weathered door
The cellar drunk on fuel
The smoke that rose like silver threading spool
I hate the way you live. (I watched the match-stick breathe.)
And all you failed to give. (And all you failed to see.)
I walked into the flowering fire from side to side to side it swayed
Beyond the warmest warm the ceiling kisses the walls that kissed the floor
The orange of the light. The sepulchral white
When day explodes the night