In every scenario, a bonfire rages
in the middle of some field where
sad girls sit on the laps of boys

and hunting dogs pick at chicken
bones. Summer hisses like a kitten
in our throats. Hay, newly-baled, dots

the grass–each one a golden tornado
tightened around its center. Embers
flick dangerously around our heads–

the halos have arrived. Our kingdom:
fire, throne, man. And heaven: a girl
with a mouth who knows how to use it.

I stand in the periphery, wonder, what
makes a world? What light ends it?
A girl kneels in the dirt, a boy’s hand

laced through her hair, pushing her
into him. It goes like this: praise
the shepherd, shame the sheep. Fire

spits into summer eternal. Someone
vomits in the bushes. Under this sky,
we all have big eyes–blank with light.