possession pyre

Mar 15, 2008 - 18:52 PM PST

What a bleak and dismal sky it is when the ashes block the moon. Or was it the sun? when do you last remember seeing the worst of any earthly possessions float gently into the atmosphere? The scent of black carbon spiraling around fingers and coats claimed each spectator as its own. I’m the only one around. How gracefully jets of yellow streaking red shafts of amber frolic around hollow piles of wood, cloth, and metal. A new friend emerges from the tangible sunset. The sunset lightens stony lips, locked in a permanent curl. The friend strokes palen cheeks bringing a myriad of rubies to the skin. Energy is released from things that use to store it. The pyre in front of me was all of those possessions that bound me to a place. I guess I’m not tied down anymore. You know? I think this could work out.