Bonfire

Even with the wind

Retreating guilty from us,

The slightest smell 

Of piled logs and branches

Smoking

Sneaks like roly-polies

Through the vents

Onto the front car seats.

We watch the orange-red bonfire

Like an Easter crucifix

As silver wisps of breath

Reveal the time your ex

Reduce you to an inch

Unloved,

Fragile dreams of a college degree

For your only son,

And how you wish you could twist about your nose

Already absolutely perfect.

And the fire paints you muted blushing lemon,

And your dancing hands say everything I can't,

And night with all its quiet life

Is sanctifying every inch of darkness,

And this could be the holy place

The falling streaking stars

All land.

- 11/4/26