gardens: fires

How badly

we all want to be
forgotten in our beds;

stinking of our mucus, of our bones.

Wailing against the fires

put us out
put them out

Only we've created something
that resembles the lights in a store window
because it is airy and tangible

Everything so tangible,
to the point of being real
life.

only, the smoke makes it clear
while we crawl to the door

yeah,
there is some breathing going on
but I'm not sure where to find the grass

because I haven't seen it in days
so maybe

I'll figure

each of my toes is the petal of a chrysanthemum
and I'm me in there
and every other

equal as a garden

and growing out the window.


(ps: I liked this )