the fire

The Fire

They have all gone out dancing, locked the door
and left me here alone; there is a fire in the kitchen
smoke is seeping out. I can’t fine the key to get out
and the door is so very tall… “Under the carpet,”
I hear a distant voice. I find a key there, but can’t
reach the hole. I hear a song:” Forward Christian
soldiers…” So much smoke, firework outside, they
are celebrating first of May and peace by shooting
in the air. A window breaks, a big shadow picks me
up, I’m sure it was a friendly troll. Sunrise casts
rays of life on a smoldering cabin, red Indians have
burnt down our homestead, mother read about them
in a book; they have taken my father prisoner and
that’s ok, he’s always absent anyway.