Flame
Drifting, she passes through the frame.
Reshapes borders, edges.
The way smoke scribes a letter in the sky with
gases and particulates. Intractable. Impermanent.
But not like a risen corpse
yet to accept its body’s stilling, or
the flooded creek’s waters taking
a house and the family within. Some things
are explainable. This morning you drained
the sink, and thunder set off a neighbor’s alarm.
From every moment, a second emerges.
Picture a man lighting a candle where a home once stood.
* * *
“Flame” was published in Poppy Road Review in February 2019 and is included in my chapbook, From Every Moment a Second, available for order via Amazon.com and Finishing Line Press.
O at the Edges 
We recently had a freak explosion of a gas line in our home town, destroying seven homes. Your last line made me think of that. I love that poetry can take on universal significance. You do it well, Robert.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, V.J. This was sparked, at least in part, by a tragic flood near my former home.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Welcome. Tragedy does not limit itself to one location.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It certainly does not.
LikeLiked by 1 person