Song of a Prairie Fire
The choir sings off key. The notes creating
A burning prairie in the darkness
As their voices rise and fall in the crackle
Of dry grasses groaning and snapping
and the deep bass of the wind howling, smoke rolling
Inside the Belle where the audience,
A pallet of reds, yellows, browns, clouds of gray,
sits, lifeless, heads nodding.
And a baby’s cry pulls eyes to the back
Where an apologetic mother shuffles
between knees and seats singing her own song.
“Sorry,” whispers. “Excuse me.
Shhhhh. Shhhh.” She rocks the baby.
Exits back.
And the fire still burns in the throats of the choir
Pulsating like the flames
Which swirl and devour the dry grasses
Consuming, taking, trembling in fear
And we shift in our seats, lifeless, heads nodding,
Waiting to exit back.
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