To: The Flame

“You’d be angry, too,

If you could never go home.”^*

Is that why I’m

always

so

…

mad?

…

I can never return

to the Georgia of my youth.

The honeysuckle under

…

my window

…

has

…

died.

…

The pink walls of

my childhood

bedroom are now

painted

gray.

…

The patchwork quilt

I loved so much

doesn’t

fit

…

my

…

bed.

…

No more humid, warm nights

or distant, midnight train horns.

That time and place are gone,

And I’m

…

left

…

unsettled.

…

And angry.

…

O Lord, it burns,

…

the only constant

I’ve ever known.

Is this flame a

…

gift

from my parents?

…

Or a creation

…

all

…

my

…

own?

…

*The Devil Makes Three. “Help Yourself.” Do Wrong Right.

Milan Records, 2009