If We Burn

gorgeous writing, powerful restraint

O at the Edges

If We Burn

What flares instead to replace our privileged nights? And which

assemblage of words could reorder these deaths into comprehension,

change I can’t breathe from epitaph to actuated plea for help?

Are words ever enough? Can we stack our indifference and fear

into a mile-high pyre, and torching it watch them rise to nothingness,

disappearing through the clouds into the streaming light of cold, dark stars?

Raise your hands and sing. Blow softly upon the ember. Inhale and recall.

Do you still feel? Will you breathe? Every fire needs oxygen.

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