Poem: Pyre

“Pyre”
by Bill Ward
1999

I want to take these things before me
And build a funeral pyre
And dance around it playing a drum
As the flames grow higher.

Atop the conflagration sits
My hopes for a secure life
A sensible home in a good neighborhood
With an SUV for my wife.

When the ashes have settled,
When the smoke is gone,
I’m not so sure that I will like
What remains when all is done.

I have my doubts, as I stand
With match and box poised to strike
If I light this fire I may create
Something I do not like.

I heave a sigh and put away
My incindiary tool
And with a letter opener I reach for a piece
Of my pyre’s fuel

© 1999 William R. Ward
All Rights Reserved
December 13, 1999

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