Fire

We burn the fields, and it seems the whole world’s on fire, as if the seventh seal opens to a silence in heaven. I’m told to watch for flames that jump the guided path and to be weary of the heads of horses that will be as the heads of lions, learning how to burn, so the grass returns like the blunted tail of a lizard, the herb yielding seed after seed, the corn, so pure, weevils crowd its teeth, and watermelons when thumped echo the Holy Ghost. This time, lost with the thought of worshipping the beast, his head on my hips, gently turning me over, I forget myself. The fire gets out, blackens the siding of our house. I hose what I can, but fire’s a beheaded chicken, not knowing where to go, just going.