Poem: Immolations

A poem about the fires we couldn’t put out.

There were several fires, really.
Car crashes too. He fled the scene of
at least one major that was entirely

his fault; the takeaway being he was
a marvel of modern science for
making it out alive, not a scoundrel,

or villain, or nuisance — for creating
public damages, endangering lives,
ruining things. But he was always

ruining things. There were several
fires. Maybe one is burning still.
Maybe something is stirring deep

inside of him. Some fires you can’t
put out. Several rebirths arriving
after several deaths suggests

some ultimate, hideous form of luck.