grease fire

the kinds of fires i have seen
do not stop. do not come when
they are called. do not yield to water.
in the house without
any windows we were trying to 
eat a bird. the bird was us or it was
our femininity. i buy my sibling a train ticket
to get out of here. they don't leave
& the ceiling falls in & the fire gets
so hungry that it turns green.
i have missed my chance to escape 
more times than i can count. the last
flight out of a slick oil place. in our college
dorm once someone was trying to fry
their hand. it caught the cabinets 
on fire & i remembered salt.
we poured salt all over the flames &
they turned into obelisks. the cabinets
smoldering. the fire alarm laughing.
no one ever came. no fire people. no gods.
from this i learned that you must have
a plan for grease. for when no one
is coming to save you. i did not want
to eat the birds & so i failed at it.
instead, i watched a youtube tutorial 
on fire eating. i have been trying to figure out
how i am going to join the circus
when that's what it comes down to.
my sibling folds the ticket into a bird.
we put it in the oven knowing
it will burst into flames. some kind of
reverse phoenix. take me back. i know 
we came from fire. i grow my hair
as long as it will go. the house rejects
every window we try to give it. 
there is no more salt. no more ticket.
just birds & our lungs like wings.