Burnt Buildings

TO MCCLUNG, BURNING
sometimes you feed the flame

I walked through you, once
when you were being erected.
I slid my fingers over the the new
corners, the nooks and crannies,
the walls inside your walls,
all your plumbing exposed.
I watched as they dressed you
and breathed life into dirt.
I remember you before you were tall.

But you were filled with a desire
for the lick of flame, the tongue of fire
pulling up your skirts
you showed everyone your girders

And I’m feeling sick because
I trudged, half-drunk
through knee-deep snow
to see you
and I see you
I see you slumped over in the night
and I see your ribs poking through your back
and I see your brick skin hiked up like a sundress
and a wink in your broken windows
that glitter with a smirk
and a crooked finger

I can’t tell
if it’s your last time
to beckon me in
or because last time was the last time

I was the only one to come inside.