empty communal beach
every star an opaque crystal
the firmament a big bowl
what chance do we have
against the stupendous
build a pyramid
of driftwood and kerosene
the interior is fire
arranged by windy night
windy as a knife
as the money paws
against our pockets
as palm to palm
we hold hands
and sing along
with the sun
as the meshed conflagration
appears to disappear
as does everything else
elemental and sine qua non
if the wood weren’t here
it’d have been welcomed
on another beach
by another set of strangers
when the fumes
are noxious
I walk into the wind
settle into my limbs
try not to notice
how quickly we devolve
afflicted by disregard
in love and afraid
of flesh and death
it’s a long slow settling
into charcoal and ash