Because the valley was full of mirrorsholding themselves toward the lightwe turned our bodies to the sideto face the controlled burning of that day

an abandoned slapboard house in our plain town

up in flames& falling downinside itself

The town was a bathtub full of orangesfour children threw their arms upin the chicken feathered air

Before the house fell inwardwe felt the premonition of its fallingand said our grandmamas’ names

the unkempt gardenia eating the windows bent back into roots& lifted in the windthe light turned into a sleeve of blades

a rain fell that was not enough & only ignited the glare

we kept our heads downafraid we would change into luster& would not return to our bodiesour devotion

A ghost because we have so manyshouted in the white firemen’s earsthen turnedrunning toward the center of townthe brilliancenot aware of us and our deadbecame twice itself  so we could not tell the distance between density & beautya light we wanted to take our uncles’ hammers to

Our legs if they were our legswere trying to fleeto become unboundthe same soil under our mamas’ nailswas under oursso we wondered if we were unworthyof the shiningthe boards’ splitting sounded like falling treesthe smell of a thousand burned-down forests making uslook at ourselves in the city water

mud all over what we thought was ours