Fire Watcher.
Spark Guarder.
You smell of ash and the past.


Yea, burning your brother's shirt on the side of the street.
Stamping the spare sparks away with the soles of your feet.
Doesn't it hurt?
Sending souls beyond into the mist?
Turning the flesh into Flagships adrift?
Burning to be with the burnt.
Returning the souls to the earth.

Watching tiny flames ride skeletal monorails to work,
  wearing a brother's shirt,
    clutching father's overcoat...
      fan, release, stoke.
When we become tinder, Fire Watcher guides the cinders.
Tender eyes and mute mouth.
Ember skies and waking owls.
The wolf is allowed to howl again.

Spark Guarder waits for it all to go out.
Forgiveness in flame.