The wood burns, pallets, floorboards, chair legs
and door frames. Anything and everything
feeds this beast. Smoke rises into an infinite stream of
ghost dancing. The heat is an argument, a ferocious inferno
of anger and murder. It is burning, punching, thumping
your skin as you look on. There is no remorse here
no empathy or tear. This eye doesn’t cry or blink.
A river of gold burns, spitting out anger. It keeps
the bottomless black pit ringed up. There is no
relief from the simmering power. A running marmalade
of lava strikes another eye’s heart, if met in the deep
wood. An explosion awakes and a fuse lit
where time thins to nothing. You have no way out,
no way to escape the fury of being seen. You are thrown
into the fire that burns from the eye of the hawk.