Even before the fire
That summer afternoon
The cottage seemed to be melting
Like a sugar cube
In the mouth of a donkey
The field above it
A shade of ultraviolet only birds see
My father heaping sticks
And shrubs in a pile and when he lit it
The fire marched
Up the field ragged spitting rude
A motley army humming a ribald song
Wind the song
The field a feather
Barb aflame
Meantime inside I lay on my back
On hardwood
A book I loved above me
O and the sea the sea
crimson sometimes like fire and
the glorious sunsets
and the figtrees in
the Alameda gardens yes
When I heard my childhood name
Cried out
It was my mother crying it
Dad laughing
I ran outside
My mother keeping pace solemnly
With tufts of blue
Incandescent elementals
Fire
It’s OK it’s OK Dad was saying don’t worry guys
As flame sipped the trees
Like a bear a waterfall
Then came a caravan of trucks
Upon our path
Local housefathers
Uncombed dignitaries in high boots
Astronauts upon the green
Men who know damn well
What side of the bread to butter
My mother waved
Dad spoke to each
And the men unamused stamped
Upon the light
Crushing in a dance the afterfeather
As Dad walked the blistering ruts
Their trucks had made
Strolled in the cottage
Slid on a Thelonious Monk record
Put his feet up lit a cigar
Grinning

Originally published in The Hopkins Review

John Wall Barger’s poems and critical writing have appeared in American Poetry Review, Kenyon Review, The Hopkins Review, Alaska Quarterly Review, Rattle, The Cincinnati Review, Poetry Ireland Review, and Best of the Best Canadian Poetry. His poem, “Smog Mother,” was co-winner of The Malahat Review’s 2017 Long Poem Prize. His fourth book, The Mean Game (Palimpsest, 2019) is currently in its second print run. He lives in West Philadelphia, and teaches Creative Writing at The University of the Arts. johnwallbarger.com