(for Debbie)
Before the fires
the woman
across the street
whose garden
grew from rubble
gave us
a bouquet of sunflowers
the color of flame
A month later
ash and smoke
rained down
waking us to
the horrifying fall
of colors
ravaging
millions of acres
thousands of structures
countless lives
Was her grief
a greater grief
than those
buried beneath
the numbers?
On a clear morning in April
an ember
smoldering inside her
burst through
gasoline soaked skin
setting her world on fire
like a million
orange sunflowers
exploding from the pavement
