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.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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