Burn

I see my town in ashes.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
My house.
gone.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
I walk to the charred frame of where my front door was.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
I see my brother, sister, mom, and dad.
  But I'm sure they were Honerable Men.
all
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
slain
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
without second thought
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
burnt alive
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
  But I'm sure they were Honorable Men.
They probably had to do it.
  Right?


         right?

When I first saw you, you kissed me on the forehead and took a bucket of gasoline, raising it over your head, and poured it over me.  The chemicals seeped into every one of my pores.

You, that burning late August sun, set every square inch of my slick, slimy fossil fuel frame to flame.  Oh, I burned and burned for you, but I mistook the heat of your scorching destruction for the warmth of true affection.

You had your fun, but my fire grew too big for you; you were a pyromaniac, but you didn’t have a death wish.  Even in the cool December air, you didn’t need me to keep warm.

Eventually I was all burnt out, no more wick for flame to consume, so I withered away in the rubble of you.

Somehow, I walked away from the ashes: reborn, wiser.  With a new policy to hold myself to: never date an arsonist.

Staring into the unwavering flame on the wick
Of a freshly lit candle, I nearly had a heart attack

Time too, decided to pause, the world grew quiet
And I grew sick in this endless moment.

Why was I so afraid to be stuck in one place,
All because of an unhealthy love for that glow

At the break, she danced across my eyes like
Orange brushtrokes on the setting sun of a canvas.

My heartbeat returns to normal, I breathe in
Letting all my fears burn away into ash.

At sunrise
I awake from
A violent comatose

I welcome the fiery rain
Soak my flesh from the faucet
Taking deep breathes in stride

With an arsonist anthem playing
Eyes closed and heart racing
The immolation takes flight

Bones made ash become warpaint
A far cry from help as I burn
An unstable dynamo ready to blow

I. You don’t see him - you’ve never really
  seen him. You just open up to the stars and
  imagine him as the divinity watching you
  back. But stars don’t watch you and he
  doesn’t even know you’re trying to tell
  him something

II. You burned him alive - taught him trauma
   is made by repeats - made sure that even
   lain in his childhood home he would not be
   allowed peace. You never looked twice.

III. There’s something in his body you’ve missed
    by just taking flesh

IV. You’re only into monsters - His lying, his
    claws, his teeth. Wait to be eaten.

The back of the fire truck says "call to report arsonists."
The 800 number is at the tips of my fingers.
     But how can I report hands that sent flames licking up my thighs, kisses that left my lips scorched, smiles that ignited a roar deep in my stomach.
     How can I report you for setting my world ablaze, my heart on fire...
                                 And then leaving.

i will spend the rest of my life
burning
burned
for your touch
from your touch.

there is nothing
binding our hearts
binding our souls.

i've never been one to
give a little
get a lot.

you do not move the mountains
did not part the earth
or sea.

you leave me unravelled
you left me out of place.

i'll apologize for not being
more
delicately suited to
your needs.

do you want to see me burn?
kiss me then
leave me
burning
burned.

by Sara L Russell
(For the casualties of Manchester Kennels, 12/9/14, 21:05)

Old trusty Bob, sure-footed in the lead,
Truffles and Sandy bringing up the rear;
And all the others, with no faith or creed,
Yet representing all that's loved and dear.

They run along the path to Paradise
To where no faithful hound need ever die;
A playful eagerness lights up their eyes,
As clouds and gliding seraphim go by.

Garlands of stars and quasars light the way
The scent of incense lifts their spirits high
Nobody shouts commands to sit or stay;
Freedom is calling from beyond the sky.

Saint Peter tells each one "Rest easy, friend;
Your earthy suffering is at an end."