Bonfire Night

Guy Guy Guy
Poke him in the eye
Put him on the bonfire
And let him die

I have the urge to burn things tonight. To light a fire and cleanse myself of the debris of my past that hangs from me like barnacles on a ship too long at sea.

This is a difficult post to write. It is 11:00 PM. The baby is asleep, albeit quite fitfully. I told her a tale tonight to send her on her way, about a girl called Arabis who lived by the shore, with hair the color of sand and eyes like the sea in a storm. How she smiled and the weight of the world was a little lighter on those around her. How her laughter was like the gentlest of rain on a sky-lit roof, crystalline and pure. I told her that her mother loved her. And her father did as well. And we lived with the cats, Isabelle and Wolf, who kept the night terrors at bay. Wolfie must have been sitting nearby, listening, for he came and curled up at her feet. They sleep peacefully now, both snoring softly.

I told her we were all happy together. That is how one can tell it was a fairy story.

It's quiet and dark and I sit here smoldering, unsure how long the fire will continue to burn buried so deep. It will either erupt into flame and engulf me or burn out all together and I'm not sure which one I fear more.

We are all traitors in one way or another.

Remember, remember the Fifth of November
The gunpowder treason and plot
I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot