at the center
of a burnt down forest. I walk barefoot
among the char. The smell of death
circling me as halo. I’ve been singed. But I forget

the burning.  I see whiffs of smoke
poke their tales out of holes in the ground. I think
of them as squirrels. But when I look
all is still. It’s only a murmur

of uncertainty. The faint light
plays hide and seek. I try to follow it. But it leads
me to more fallen trees that have blackened
and blended with the leaves.