the night was red
with the heat of the fire,
the winter river's ice reflected the same.
the men on either side of the river
fought the fire, their faces
black & wet.
& i dreamed our child
left my body
with such heat & push
the sheets started on fire,
orange as autumn flowers
and as sweet smelling.
when the lights are off
& i rub my eyes, it is orange.
i see fields of pumpkins & burning trees.
the fire was long and tall
through the warehouses
& up into the night.
people left their warm houses
to stand on the bridge over the river
& watch
& all their eyes were orange.
children cried to stay up & out,
& men looking from tavern windows
remembered things they'd never known.
we came home to tell our own children
& just then, just like in the movies,
it started to rain—in january
it started to rain.
people who came from everywhere
began to return,
the orange & red colors
running down their cheeks,
their eyes turning back
to their own colors.