by Susan Norton

Created on: June 03, 2008

Mother Made Me Burn
My Father's Picture

She stood behind me,
poked her finger
into my back.
Do it. Do it.

I struck a match.
The flame trembled
then caught hold
of his wing tipped shoe,
sucked at the cuff
of his pants, raced
up his leg to his belly,
his chest.

Terror seeped
from his eyes
as his heart ignited,
as his chin began to char.

But Dad did not flinch,
did not try to run away,
stayed still
with the same smile
to show the world
he didn't blame me.

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