Jarret Keene

All Little Boys Want To Grow Up and Be Firemen

for us it was different	hot weld of
sparks dance before our eyes	around cities
of desolation	long poles with hooks
drag bodies out of pits	lay wet cloth
upon brows of victims	most rash &
fearless are nurses	“ring your bell”
insists Death Angel	sprinkle soft ash
glory laid dust	impenetrable
blackness stumbling against	each other as we run
no strength	to meet fire
manly spirit	insatiate maw
in Fire Man’s arms	fall corpses
lick up everything	like so many salamanders
as flames creep	along he uses sand &
quenches them turns	human creatures
into fiends	where is your plan
of relief relief	relief there is hope
nothing may be	saved here