Super blood wolf moon

   

Yesterday I burned things.   

   

I burned Amazon boxes.   

   

I burned paperwork.    

   

I burned frozen    
   

wood that turned   
   

black and rolled with    

   

smoke.   

   
   

It was below zero    

   

and I was wearing thin shoes   

   

but the heat lifted me and   

   

   

I could look down on the   

   

cold.   

   
   

I drank black coffee by   

   

the fire in a thin sweatshirt   

   

and poked at big bricks of   

   

credit card statements,   

   

peeling back the leaves    

   

to expose their untouched   

   

yellow hearts to the fire.   

   

  

I burned flyers and coupons,   

   

I burned grocery bags.   

  

   

I was in one of my phases -  

   

    

where the black drink    

   

and the   

   

unnatural smell   
   

of paper;   

   

the coughing and the 

   

black fingers;   

   

where I sucked   

   

it all in    

   

like a Lucky Strike.   

   

   

I didn’t know   

  

that  

  

  

later that night   

   

   

the moon would look   
   

smudged and  broken-nosed   

   

   

that it, too  

 
 

would become a  

 
 

fire pit    

   

for the sky