phoenix 

i'm looking for
a better metaphor than 
a phoenix out of the ashes

i want to know
if the burning hurts him
or if he's numb to
the sensation of fire
after all of these years 
living through cycle 
after cycle of ash birth 
& flame

does he feel it coming

an aching deep beneath
the feathers in his chest

like a match being struck 
all the way up
his throat

i was telling you about
the trees in the pine barrens 

the ones with serotiny
which means that their seeds
only open in great heat
or fire

how the whole forest
set itself on fire 
& runs wild

legs cut-off at the knees

& falls into the 
copper water

i'm asking what does 
the phoenix have
to do with these trees?

does he live in the bark
microscopic & patient

does he light a fire
at the base of the tree
to encourage the process 
to begin

we were talking about
the ashes of our grandparents
& i said that i hope
that no one wastes time
burying me when i'm dead

i hope they take me
to the pine barrens 
where i can learn from
the trees & the phoenix

this isn't a call for
a rebirth 

this is a call for
what else we can do with fire

my grandfather sits
curled up inside a little 
black box in our attic

knees tucked into his
chest like an infant 

his ashes a bed to rest on

should we plant him
in the rocks under the pine tree?

should we leave him
to the devices of 
mythical birds?

if you give ashes enough
time will they encounter
the phoenix 
& all his temptations?

as he scratches at his
own skin from the discomfort
of coming fire

i feel that too
alone in bed at night 

the kindling & forest brush
in my rib cage starting
to smoke

the breeze from my 
air conditioner spurring it
forward

like most kinds of pain

we make the phoenix romantic 

& forget the combat
with endings in blaze

the refusal to burn

the thrashing of
the bird on the dead leaves 
as he asks god not
to make him come
out of the ashes again

to let him finally 
finally rest

i will not wake
my grandfather 

& i will sit in the bathtub 
until my own body smolders

a stream of smoke
from my eyelids &
the back of my throat

i cough ash-- 
viscous now like
wet saw dust

used match sticks
caught in my teeth

oh god oh god

next time the phoenix 
bursts open like
a red carnation 

will you let me go
with it?

only this time
let the bird sleep

& let me wake up

take a shower

wash the ash down the drain 
& take in 
my new body