Afire

As in a girl's scalp, pulled tight in braids.
As in her dream, the Ferris wheel she knew

from books, the drinks men made their lady friends.
As in her lungs the night men rose around

her bed, stood on her father's back, their breath
the poison smoke she sprayed a nest of wasps,

the summer last. She waited for the sun
to set then aimed the poison underground.

They rose in two's and three's around her ankles,
above her knees, and as they died, they clung

to her dress like men. Too scared of being stung
to run inside, the hum of dying filled her chest.

As in a skirt of dying wasps. As in her dream,
a drink with lemon, the swirl of city lights.

Copyright © 2007 Andrea Scarpino All rights reserved
from Rhino
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission