How to Light a Fire

FacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

It is said that fire
is a triumvirate
An “association of three.”
Heat.
Fuel.
Oxygen.
A trinity of dependence.

//

HEAT

It is late summer.
This is incessantly confirmed
by the humming locusts and
the heat
made visible in
the shimmering mirage
at the end of the gravel.
I am always fooled.
My body,
cloaked in heavy air,
moves slow,
deliberate.
I’ve stopped making plans.
I am resigned now.
Everything green is
gilded at the
edge.
We are all dying.

//

FUEL

Days
Weeks
Years
of
Joy.
Fear.
Laughter.
Salt water.
Unmet expectations.
Triumph.
Blood.
Brokenness.
Peonies.
Vodka.
Slammed doors.
Orange.
Art.
Babies.
Death.
Stratified
and
waiting.

//

OXYGEN

He begs me to push him
higher
his hands gripping the chain
fiercely
his eyes wide,
alive.
His view is a lake
dotted by geese
honking
preening.
He wants to soar
over them.
Kick the sky.
I push and
push and
push.
His entire body
cocked and
ready.
He holds his breath.
Always.
Always, he forgets.
I lean in deep
and whisper into his hair
that he must breathe.
I remind him,
me,
how to light
a
fire.

FacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmailFacebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail