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 unplayed 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 
searing still in orange glow 

how terrible the psychedelic colors at sunset 
how terrible the smoldering 

and still we did not lose our eyes 
seeing the blaze for wonder 

what was and what might be