(Title from ‘Ceremony After a Fire Raid’ by Dylan Thomas)
By Ellen Reich
Eruptions
in a wheat-field of flames
send infant sparks
falling like water fountains
to dry ground
before a belfry’s timber work
is consumed
by fiery mouths
when a wind is born.
I’ve seen the barren-wasted
Malibu hills after wild-fire wars.
Their stubble-leavings black
and tortured. Stumps knob out
like awkward cactus flowers
on devil soil where ribbon snakes
search for scorched meat
on little skulls of rodents
and birds have flown away
toward their promise of stars.
(Previously published in Blue Unicorn)