Ashes in a Jar

Moving out of a trailer park includes

Deshingling your trailer.

Deshingling involves wasps,

Wasps induce Axe/Lighter blowtorches.

One sleek, blue can plus

One green cigarette lighter equals

A fiery death for the flying abomonations.

That lighter was borrowed from big-brother Chris—

Rest in peace, big brother.

“Spray the Axe, light the lighter,

Spray the Axe, light the lighter,”

He told me time and time again.

But of course I didn’t listen

To a word he said.

I lit the lighter, sprayed the Axe, and

SPWOOSH.



Heat, intense heat, burning all over

I threw them to the ground and

After the shock passed

Looked at my burning hands.

Flaming red welts split

Both of my palms,

Blisters, blown like little pain-filled balloons,

Covered the pads of my fingers.



Shamed, I gave the lighter back

To my Gentle Giant, whispering

“Don’t flip it over” because

I melted the other side

With my stupidity.



Common sense isn’t that common for me.



If only he hadn’t

Given me that lighter,

Tossed me that sleek can of Axe…

Maybe I wouldn’t have these hands that

Still burned with that phantom-burn

Of the lighter my big brother gave me,

Who is now just ashes

In a jar.