The pregnant
girl sits by the campfire
Prodding at
the
Logs with a
loose branch
While she
talks about her
Boyfriend in
jail
In a
conversational way.
The sky is
dark.
I am young,
A quiet
observer,
Watching the
shadows
Flicker
across
Her smiling,
innocent face.
She says that
she’s going to marry him
That she
knows he’ll stay and take care of her
That there’s
only a
Year or so
Left
Before they
let him out.
Poking her
stick into the flames,
She lifts it
up,
A tiny blaze
clinging to its tip—
She traces designs
in the
Smoke-filled
air
And dreamily
says
That she
loves playing with fire.
