Mattress Fire

Furious orange wounds

rimmed in charcoal

betray last night's secret:

died, almost died,

charred in an accidental inferno

due to the lazy application

of a long-standing addiction.

Warm,

paper-burn stink clings

to the heat of an early morning

- July.

The slowly-creeping wet heat

in stark contrast

to the quickflash realization of predawn:

my bed was on fire.

The must never know,

those in the cells opposite -

surely, threats of neglectful destruction

warrant the hasty eviction

of a new tenant.

Thus I,

the wakeful sentinel of 611 Lyon

watching for mattress ignition

have overturned the hopefully-cooled burns

and will sleep

to avoid dwelling on thoughts

of housefires.