With Citizens as Trees

With Citizens as Trees

He places his hand on the bible
but the bible does not catch fire
as we guessed
no, the bible does not catch fire
but the room does. The room swells with heat
even as the smoke fills it. And then our lungs.
Yes. The smoke fills our lungs
even as the carpet burns—this ugly green carpet—
this lonely shag—this uncouth tangle of weeds—
yes. Even as it burns to ash between our toes
our lungs burn.
Shift your heel a little; shift the toe of your polished shoe
, of that Italian leather, and feel the pillow of cinders shift
to match the imprint of your sole.

You’ve made a space for yourself.
This is where you belong:
The firestorm.

Published by dreysleeps

I art and eat and draw and sleep and cry and rhyme. I consume too much pizza and—by all rights—should be dead, but I haven't gotten around to it. Procrastination saved my life.

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