A Man On Fire

I close my eyes,
see waters burn.
No lover,
just falling star.
Can't fall asleep,
my hands that
tried to scoop,
to catch, are burning.
Upholstery meet skin...
flame leaps back
and forth between the two.
A cloud of smoke
rises up between the armrests.
Ash drops to my toes.
A fire truck
races down the street,
sirens jangling.
I can only tell you
what I know.
Everything is still
to do with me.

John Grey's latest book is What Else Is There from Main Street Rag and his work has appeared recently in The Xavier Review, The Malahat Review, Bellevue Literary Review and Birmingham Poetry Review.

Email: John Grey

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