The night Cosby goes off air
I set the house on fire
unintentional act:thinking the tv in sight
I pull a pistol
empty six chambers
and miss every god-damned time
ricochet sparks recycle
stacks of aging newspaper
the heat is rampant
Jenny glares at meloses patience
and leaves the room
sitting for a momentI muse on bucket brigades
and look for Jenny’s return
with a hose under pressure
a shining red hat
smoke dances itself up curtains
I struggle from my chairand scour shelves
to remember anything worth saving
not a book or shirt
a few singed letters
my records melt
forty-five thirty-three seventy-eight
the plastic air of lamp shades
and paper walls
follows from room to room
holding my breathI run through hallways and stairwells
and pass Jenny as she
tears support from the bannister
she seems to shimmer
in the erratic light
a gas flame flickering
about to go out
the roof caves in between us
I scatterbreak windows
kick doors
choke outside
the sound of raging timber
and Jenny
stirring there
selling axe handles
to the firemen.
