My Ma builds fires with logs thicker than herself,
Such a skinny thing bending--
Her weight succumbed to IV drips only three weeks ago
In a white-walled room that smelled of sanitizer and alcohol--
She has felt cold ever since, wrapped up in sweaters and blankets
And sitting so close to the crackle-popping flames
That I fear she will catch fire and burn up,
Gone--I suppose--one way or the other.