But what was that story now? No, really.
The Bonfire
There was a story about toys,
and books, and the comfort
of pajamas being thrown
into the fire when the little boy
got well again. It stomps
through my memories sometimes,
for no reason. I hear the teddy-bears
and wooden soldiers crying
as they burn, though not screaming,
as the child might have
had it been him. And the fire,
in this story, was alone
without a voice. I wonder
how the toys hurt him,
motionless.
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