Fire Bird
By Ray González
After Henry Dumas
The fire bird is
identified again.
Trees blow up
in the forest
where once
their wings and
throats were colors
of forgiveness.
The cottonwood
outlining my window
totters again.
Every year,
the fire bird scorches
what you can’t have.
It is not his beauty
that I regret.
It is the cry
to those that listen
to the bird—
“I burn them now.
Someday, I will find you.”
