32
bloodline arson
by Chestina Craig
Fire follows me
dances in my hair with the sun
at the horizon. I used to fear her
couldn’t touch a match
today I am a house in flames
a fire sign, an angry girl, no longer afraid
to touch fireworks. She teaches me
about the women. The witches
she was forced to take. Tells me
about my far off grandmother, her accusations
the narrowness of her escaping
how the men wanted her to burn
fearful they were of magic
heating herself alone all embers and glory
the parts of Salem that dig themselves holy
into the women of my family. The women
in my family. Burning witches. Smart mouths.
Price tags on our bodies, the following flame.
She apologizes for taking my grandmother, tells me about the debt
men made of us. The conflagration of her body
a burning breakfast and bathrobe.
Cooking for her husband, the left side of her body a bonfire.
Maybe is why the left side of my body
is always trying to burn itself
the women in my family love
to set our guts on fire love to drink
got arson in our bloodline
a family tree in flames
I used to fear burning branches
but now I dance with the sparks
of my family heirloom
on my eyelashes
see our burning homes
and worship how we keep
warm.