That rock I chose and hefted yesterday, it is glowing red. Flames fan out from below in a fiery inferno. My face wants to succumb to the warm and does, but also doesn’t. It’s too hot and just warm enough. Sparks shoot upwards into glowing ribbons. I can’t tear my smarting eyes away. But it’s the smell of the burning wood that has me transfixed. Fires stop you, and me. Eyes glaze over in a way that peels back the walls you’ve erected. That’s the time you can read the worry lining his brow, the regret etched into her cheekbones.
Fire (November 24, 2010)In by Fannie on November 26, 2010 at 7:08 pm