MIDNIGHT’S FIRE
Originally published in Plainsongs, Summer 2021
On that night, flames touched the sky
because the fire started on the second
floor and quickly spread to the roof.
Snow fell in dandelion-sized flakes
softly all the way down. It was enough
to leave a trail of blankets in the street,
but not enough to put the fire out.
The news van made it only minutes
after the fire trucks. Its tire treads
made patterns in the snow
like cable knit sweaters.
Their neighbors rushed to see the camera
crew, all padded coats and pajama pants.
Snow and soot sprinkled down upon them,
but in the flicker of red and blue lights,
the specks all looked the same.
Firework crumbs.
And as they watched the Yule log that
was their house burn into the night,
they thought about how cold the air
around them was, as the embers
and the stars looked the same too.