Bonfires

Darkened fields burn
Fitful stars on earth.
I built a house
Of cards with books.
Each room a universe.
Hung with tapestries
Of myths, stories, plays
And poetry from every age.

In a jealous rage you
broke their backs
Turned them to tents---
Upended on packed dirt
Carefully stacked,
Their dry white
Flesh exposed
For updraft.

A match flares
In your hands.
Flames lick wind.
Mercury bursts.
Each spark a word
Let loose upon the air
Imprinted forever.

Brilliant ideas
Irradiate ink night,
Surround the fires
Like aurora borealis.
A chimera curtain
Suspended in flight.

Blackened eyes squint.
Tears sere my cheeks.
I lick the salt
Tamed, mesmerized,
Yet wild beneath.

The acrid smoke
Dusts our jackets.
My empty hands fist
Into arid pockets.
While sighs of thousands
Like curling signatures
Re-write the sky.

Carbon ash ribbons judge,
Give sentence to the act.
I see it reflected
In your eyes, twin
lights of culpability.

I smolder like the leaves,
Breathe the air
Impregnated with words
Set free from their bindings.

Michele S. Boyd


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