Forest Fire
I could see her there,
just beyond the window pane,
at the edge,
cradling her entrails like a gift;
swallowing the light of a newborn day.
I wondered what made her do it,
why her tongue had become
a mirror, refracting her beauty
back into the world; As a last gasp.
Merlot tears ran quiet,
her shoulders slumped down slowly,
like crumbling church steeples,
and I prayed, I prayed
I prayed that I would forget
the morning when everything
finally went dark.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
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