firehouse simulation

i prepped for fire. i craved something
to survive. in fourth grade, the fire company
brought a fake house to fill with smoke.
we went two at a time, crawling on
our stomachs to wriggle out of the door.
the smoke smelled almost sweet. i was paired
with a boy i was afraid of. i got out & left him.
the fireman scolded me for leaving
him behind. at home i began to see fire everywhere.
i begged my mom to buy a ladder so that
i could crawl out my window. we bought
stickers that said, "two adults, two children inside."
i filled a bowl with water & carried it to my room.
a precaution in case fire found me. something
to put it out. the simulation house started
following me. would see it in the drive way.
i would wake up inside. the walls, smaller than
any house i'd ever been inside of. the world was
just starting to become more terrifying.
i became aware of my hands & my bones. my stomach
& the dirt under my fingernails. there were boys
who took to making a game of me. face flushed.
face on fire. i would wet my hair in the morning
to keep the flames from spreading. at church i saw
fire above all the apostles' heads. how did
they keep it contained? my uncle told me
an old story about how if you hear dogs barking
in the middle of the night that there will be
a fire. i would stay up, worried i might miss the harbinger.
i think i was always meant to be a herald. 
maybe that is thinking too much of myself. i try
my best to prepare. smoke under my skin. 
the fire in my core, burning like a swallowed house. 
up the street, the fire trucks opened their mouths
as wide as they could. i sometimes feared
they were coming for me.