He waited on the bed for her to come,
Fists clenched, legs twitching like electric wire
Storms rip from poles. He bit into his thumb,
His round cheeks glowing like the mighty fire
He’d set at dawn. His lighter’s hungry spark
Had multiplied and swarmed through yellowed brush,
Awakening the cold, abandoned park.
Watching flames rage, he’d felt his chilled skin flush.
But now his legs were cold, and it was night.
He lay sideways, not making any noise.
Mom said she wanted him to grow up right,
Not be a savage like the other boys.
If he were quiet, she’d turn down his bed.
He finally drifted off, still seeing red.