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Secrets Only Fire Can Tell

by Aaron Blair

There are plastic soldiers
melting on the radiator,
smelling like death,
as they sink into the puddles
of who they used to be.
I'm afraid of fire.
I wrapped my hand around a star once,
and, god, how it burned.
Still, it's the quickest way
to get rid of anything.
Incinerate all the evidence,
and choke the ashes down
with a glass of gasoline.
Everything is combustible here.
Flesh, bone, love, memory.
All just toys warping in the heat.
The fire tells them they are nothing
and there's nothing they can do.

12/07/2013

Posted on 12/07/2013
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 12/07/13 at 12:19 PM

great metaphor. indeed, with or without the radiator, what it all boils down to is that we are all old soldiers, just melting away with a handful of stars as a parting gift.

Posted by Linda Fuller on 12/07/13 at 08:20 PM

Suffice to say, into favorites.

Posted by Veronica Phoenics on 12/09/13 at 12:41 PM

"I wrapped my hand around a star once, and, god, how it burned." oh yes. Fire purges, transforms, destroys and creates, all at once. Beautiful!

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