and this is how i pick my bones apart.
every layer of skin begins to burn,
there's a bad taste on my tongue from choking back on your name.
i hear the tones drop in my chest, fully involved with my anger inside.

and i wish that roof collapsed.
when does the smoke clear up from the flashover we caused?
there's a tombstone above my bed commending you for killing what was left in me.
no light, no light, and you were trained to move without your vision.

there goes the flag, my final call.
to the monster you were, and he slayed, see you at the big one.

~
connected particles settling

as evidence

of the blissful graze

the brush with chemistry

the aftersome

and there the flashover

reframing time

by the warm places

one isolated touch sends you to
~

and it happens like this —
youth like the matches that make up your rib cage,
black smoke breathes in and out from your chest.
inhale, exhale, they call this a flashover.
the room combusts, and i am running for the door.
armor made of leather and air tanks.
it was not enough to rescue me from the intensity of your flame.

they sound off the alarm.
once, twice, three times.
you carry the ashes, you sing to me once more.
and how could this be?
the structure collapsing below my feet, and i imagine falling into your hands.
but there are tools in place and the weight of your exhaustion.
pulling at the air above and exposing the danger unseen.

but you see, you and i, we were forged from the most violent fire.
our bones in pits and veins feeding the gasoline.
days shaped by your heat —
they taught me how to prevent burns.

gear up, lead the way, extinguish the threat.
but, babe, they did not go over how to survive the flash of light,
the scorched throats and screams of 'mayday!'.

no, they did not prepare me to face the intensity of high tempatures in the form of your absence.
they taught me how to be blind in the dark,
how to pull you from it's depths.
but not to survive your structure's demise.

they did not teach me how to live when you set everything aflame.

and so there she stands
your daughter liberty
alone and weak
because you left her unattended
in a sundress and fireman's coat with blood
on her chin and her face contorted
for the cameras to see
stupefied on the edge of the gravel pit
with the confetti ash swirling in her hair
and her eyes filled with animal fear
as her slack body slams against the railing
and a swan song swells in her throat

they use billy clubs to beat back the rats
under the skull of the moon and
the fickle stars like frantic pouncing eagles
the neighborhood dying has scratch marks all over it
diamonds etched in storefront windows
and rollicking clouds of tear gas to make it fun
there's a ****** taking a **** out in the open street
and where's the flag? oh i remember
it's snagged on a parapet five stories up
burning in the ignored sunset between
the silent buildings

we are an enormous pile of sentient garbage
coming up from the rot wearing life preservers
advancing with the picket line tide
blowing flashbang death on flugelhorns
outside the framework of the 2-party system
invented by the mongrels in hollywood
guerrillas moving in troupes thru the city streets
filled with exhilarating hope and
plumes of smoke insurgents chanting
violence is american as apple pie

i keep my tv dark to reflect the flames
of the grocery store outside and my insides
feel ripped up, i've never had a shave this close
squish my denim body against the window like a telescope
to hear the growl from the depths under the city
this is the moment just before something big happens

this is the flashover
this is when the panic begins
there's a man in a tree out in palmdale and
i need the morphine to tell me it isn't my fault
i need my pastor to tell me god doesn't lie
tonight the fuses blew out on an entire continent
tonight i wept