this fire

There is a fire somewhere,

and as I stand on this balcony

I am bathed in hot light

the color of bruises.

Everything moves slowly in the smoke,

choked with this heat, this light.

I want to recede

and seek shadows to tuck myself into;

I want some cool corner to hide in

until it's over.

But there is nowhere to go

except for this balcony.

So I stand,

the soles of my feet burning

on the scorching cement, 

eyes watering, throat working,

skin sweating, almost shivering--

pulled out by this glowing damnation.

I'm baking out here,

but all I can do

is stand in

this air

this heat

this smoke

this light

this fire

and wait.