into the flames

[the mingo]

with her ankles encased in dark leather boots
she stirs the trash on the beach
and balances
and dances
because she is young
dressed in black with
no boats on the horizon
and no origin story to
go along with it all
& i like the way
she leaves the rust visible on
the things she takes out
of the sea

i have pulled her images into the forest with me
not to show
or to remember
but to place
as i think about the archeological existence of fire
a half million years among mankind before any evidence of cooking
simply so that man could sit next to it
and stare into the flames

[dadio]

Fine poem & theme.