are deliberately allowed to prevent
greater mischief. Sparks flying from overdue
explanations. Lightning to relieve boredom.
Avoiding miles and miles of fierce heat,
winds taunting the firefighter,
cities pouring out on the roads
all from accidental fires showing no mercy.
When he said "I'm sorry," he probably was.
And then she found a match under his pillow
not yet struck . He said he had forgotten
where he put it. Would she put it on the mantle.
Set early enough, he said, lesser flames derive
little from trees that provide only
resistant fuel. Even if they had no idea
what to do with their dried leaves,
too nostalgic to set out with the trash.
Besides the sheets were marked fire-protected
and the house was fully insured.
Then it turned out she was sorry
And put a whole box of matches on the mantle
but kept two under her pillow.
And the air became thick with smoke.
While trivia was driven out and the wallpaper
became charred with old injustices .
he said "I'm glad we had this little talk"
If you've a comment on her poem, L.Fullington
would be pleased to hear from you.