elder

sometimes i wish the sun
were fire instead of plasma.

i picture a sunset,
licks of orange-red flames
dancing on the horizon.

i wish it because fire is familiar.
i don’t know what to do with plasma.

fire is here, it is with me.
it shivers on my candle,
glows orange on the tip of my husband’s cigarette,
eats the woodpile in my mother’s backyard.

yes, it’s prone to outbursts of violence.
but then, so are we.

fire is our elder sibling.
one moment it terrifies, the next it says:
here, don’t worry,
i’ll show you what to do.

and look how the sunset
makes my hibiscus burn.

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© 2025 amber nesza