Jarret Keene

All Little Boys Want To Grow Up and Be Firemen

for us it was different hot weld of
sparks dance before our eyes around cities
of desolation long poles with hooks
drag bodies out of pits lay wet cloth
upon brows of victims most rash &
fearless are nurses “ring your bell”
insists Death Angel sprinkle soft ash
glory laid dust impenetrable
blackness stumbling against each other as we run
no strength to meet fire
manly spirit insatiate maw
in Fire Man’s arms fall corpses
lick up everything like so many salamanders
as flames creep along he uses sand &
quenches them turns human creatures
into fiends where is your plan
of relief relief relief there is hope
nothing may be saved here