The Two Fires

outside: the trees dissolving, returning

to their first red components

on all sides, cutting me off

from getaway or the sparing

lakeI sat in the house, raised up

between that ill defined seething

what's more, my dozing kids

an appeal: focus on

structure, geometry, the human

design of the house, square

shut entryways, demonstrated roofbeams,

the rationale of windows(the kids couldn't be aroused:

in their quiet imagining

the trees were straight and still

had branches and were green)The other, the winter

fire inside: the defensive rooftop

shrinking overhead, the rafters

radiant, every one of those corners

what's more, straight lines blazing, the cautiously

made structure

prisoning us in a pen of blasting

barsthe youngsters

were wakeful and crying;

I wrapped them, conveyed them

outside into the snow.

At that point I attempted to protect

what was left

of their seared dream

about the house: covers,

comfortable garments, the scorched furnishings

of security cast away with them

in a white chaosTwo fires in-

shaped me,(each shelter comes up short

us; every risk

turns into a haven)left roasted imprints

presently around which I

attempt to develop