Jeff Friedman

After the Burning

We held each other as our bodies turned to smoke and rose above the burning leaves. Hawks plunged through us, carrying bits of us in their beaks. We settled on roofs, clung to nests and nets. We drifted and drifted like cirrus clouds, like long tongues licking the sky, like glittery trails. Below, mounds of ashes crumbled or blew away. When the rain fell, we vanished, nowhere and everywhere at once.

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