What’s in a fire?:
All sizzle and roar
and destruction.
We inhale it, taste it, mouths agape,
watch its cleansing destruction
with eyes painted in shades of violence,
primed by action movies
in which explosions shout our loudest
words of wisdom.

A crackle that crunches
like tin foil wrath,
nothing like the softest sigh of rain on stone
or the shush of shoots
gasping from tender
soil beds.

Heat bites parched lips,
bakes the softness of water
from bones and skin,
sears gentle words on swollen,
clicking tongues.

Wind sighs in our lungs.
Empowered, emboldened,
we exhale,
breathing fire like some
ancient, angry, resentful dragon
that forgot the sweet shyness
of humanity.