Into the Fire

I wander to where the flowers bloom,

their feet stepping backward,

wilting at season's end

to reach me with unholy hands and dip

me

//

into the fire, I run, rush to the edge,

a creaking sound follows, like

burning

footsteps in the kitchen, flowered willow

wispy hands holding petals

up

//

open wide, my body spreads,

a creature

steps to worship me, and I

soak the wisps before delicately folding

them into the oven. I ask

you if you remember

us

//

everyday the burning stops, roses rush

open

too soon, the creature begins to burrow

inside each nook and oven cranny, where

crumbs hide like Spring

jewels

//

laid out over my bones, feet step carefully

over, aware

the timer has begun to sound,

the bread must come off the stove,

I water the tulips left on the table and begin

to worship

myself.