Fire

I have not come for you
I am running too

I have howled myself into a liquid
to storm the mountain

I have doused the trees
their shrill flailing

and wetted the forest trails
amoved with creatures

I have taken the air for myself
a breath too deep I fear

for I no more know my edges
not fingers, nor toes, only to run

forgive me
I don’t know my own strength

This poem appears in


Pass it Along

© Brendan Bonsack
April 2016