Heat of the Night

Farmhouse fire glowing orange
on Christmas Eve, 25 below
between Walden and Woods Landing.
Sparks spit like a million souls
flying heavenward when the roof

caves in. Overturned magnesium tanker
blazing west of Lawrence, Kansas,
white hot, brighter than daylight,

a sun. Your flaming red hair
piled high, spill of tendril
flowing down your freckled cheek,
the white of your bare neck,

my lips.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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