A Fire's Wake by Katrina Wharton
Bonfire trifles under moonlight;
marshmallows dot dark chocolate skies.
Sweetness melting on my lips, in
my mouth. More. I want
Crackling yellow fingers snatch
us up. Pulling us
harder into the heat.
Smoke circling and clinging to
our clothes and hair. I don't care until
the slow pale sun comes
poking questions, sharp as twigs. Too
green to burn, but still dead,
they stick in my throat.
I fall on my knees creeping through
the fire's grave.
Powdery gray fluff billows
as I crawl, like
a skeleton of cool charred smoke.
I won't recant, but instead
I flop back, waving sooty
arms and spreading
smudged-up legs, making
Angels in the ash.