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Halloween Costume circa 1963, the poet |
Childhood Study: Fires Late August
by Susan Rich
by Susan Rich
Awake in the middle of the night,
we listen to the grass crackle, to the new world of evacuate.
Like monkeys we’d screech as the trees go pop—
yellow candelabras, we saw and then not.
Now danger enters our capillaries
for the first time, the ladder trucks and sirens
seem like small toys compared
to the neighbor’s fire-fangled trees.
What lit-up between us that summer—
three sisters sleeping like barn cats, I can’t say—
except for a time camaraderie
warmed the souls of our feet, our robes
remaining intact for one season—
before it all burned away.
SOURCE: Originally published in the author’s collection Cloud Pharmacy (White Pine Press, 2014).
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