The house behind mine caught fire I saw petal scrap
ashes floating down first and thought it was a wild fire
thickening the sky like the last summer I was on a bench
with a boy I didn’t want to date couldn’t say no
because he had a body I had the time it takes to get
clean from one habit and forget we had a four-dollar bag of ice
between us a walk to the lake where we sunk in the damp
grass and coughed heartily as if the veiled yolk of a sun
was our season I heard there was an old lady who lived
in the house that caught fire I heard this after
I told my landlord about the fire I said the alley kept us safe
kept us separate from the fire that did not have tongues
that was not licking but was a whole body rolling
o the roof sparing the quiet house its shell
of a shiny yawn fossil in a place already
steaming with whisper dripping like that memory I have
of my dad telling me about his good friend whose name
was Ahad the one who set himself on flames the one
who walked o a pier into the water I can’t remember
bechara Ahad poor Ahad whether he died by water
or re what does it matter? I had to spit to speak
when I called the re ghters the throat suddenly like clay