what we lose in the fire a blown tire makes us see
the slight glimmer of wedding dress beading
once slicked down by nervous palms before the aisle
the detritus of childhood, her last baby tooth
so recently shook in a pink fairy box
the long un-played cello that must have sounded out
its own urging to the fire that licked it to char
all the books, the blessed books
the devastation of libraries that burn
our tenderest treasures, a mandala
prayer written in gold
all the flecks of us layered in disparate places
the hair balls crevice-resting
we burned there though we were not there
or perhaps we were and
only high flying birds could intuit our story
as they flew in circles cinder-blinded until they fell
for the trees are tinder
and the earth grays over
above a death mare’s mane blocks the sun
that sears still in orange glow
how terrible the psychedelic colors at sunset
how terrible the marvel smoldering
and still we did not lose our eyes
seeing the blaze for wonder
what was and what might be