The Arsonist

The Arsonist

See the man kneeling in the needlegrass and fescue
Striking matches one after the other
Should have brought a lighter
But seemed less romantic
Only a few left in the book when one catches
As if in pity
Kicking down the slope towards his car
Star thistle prickling through his socks
He turns to see that it has established itself
Like a new law in an old land
It no longer needs him
Like God who made the world
But no longer needs it
Hours pass before the first reports
Two hikers on opposing ridges
The cauldron of the valley smoking between them
Cal Fire is slow to check it out
They get so many calls
And there’s already a big fire east
They’re still trying to lasso
Near dusk a helicopter veers near
As if considering something
Decides no and leaves
All night the fire rummages as if through a pantry
Snacking on twigs and small mammals
Martyrs no one remembers
Birds betrayed by the weird air
The more it eats the hungrier it gets
Then the wind changes
Its mind and the fire jumps
From a few acres to hundreds
The arsonist has been watching it
Refreshing the sites that track the fires
Big enough to have been given names
He has never felt more powerful 
And any power feels greater these days
Amidst the general powerlessness
Fondly he remembers kneeling in the needlegrass and fescue
The underbrush like a sentence scribbled out in a letter
Too true to erase too dangerous to leave legible
When it finally caught
It was how he imagined it must feel
To watch one’s very own child grow
Out of the cradle of cupped hands
Now that it is gnawing on the first houses
The anchors are being flown out from New York
And dropped into the staging sites
Now it’s cavorting along the ridges
Now it’s brightening up the deer
Now it’s got the governor there
Ash in his hair
He tells his assistant Leave it
His eye on the presidency
Fire in his eyes
No longer content to just watch
The arsonist drives into the maw of the monster he made
With pallets of Campbell’s from Costco
With clothes and blankets and shoes
Tied to their twins by their laces
With the best of intentions truly
He joins the volunteers
And for the first time in years
Feels himself part of the human family
As the victims come as if out of church
On Ash Wednesday
Except the priest went crazy with the ashes
Got them every the fuck where
They thank him as he ladles soup into their bowls
Not knowing that these were the very hands
That set the fire now nosing through their daughters’ diaries
Now boiling the wine of rare vintage in their bottles
Then just when it seems it will engulf the whole world
The wind changes its mind again
Agrees to cooperate
The crews have it surrounded now
They beat it like someone who had the nerve to run
And the story dies out with the fire
Now comes the drudgery of insurance claims
Now the investigation into what caused it
The fire forensics teams
Narrowing in
On the pin in the map
That itself has turned to ash
In the end it is determined
It was arson
Please if you have any information
Reach out