Theme and Variations on a December Night

Paulette Beete

1.

We stand at the window, my sister and I the house next door burning, our house
night-hushed but for the hum

of sleepy eyes opening, closing.

Houses further down our neck of
Merrick Road empty

their families, parade of sneakers, slippers,
bare feet. Arms wide with books
and photographs and children. My father

urges our small faces to the window overhead his camera sighs and clicks.
I don’t wonder how long Daddy will wait

before herding us to the street. I know 
we won’t leave—this time or the twice mo that house burns. I know already

my father will choose another time to leave
arms wide with books and photographs.

2.

We are always practicing for fires.

3.

We stand at the window.
We watch. I want to remember so
I can tell the story of us watching. So
I can tell a story about not leaving.

4.

There is a window.
I am standing at the window.
At the window I am standing my blue gingham nightgown blinking. A house next door burns.
Next door a house is burning. One house in a long block of houses.
In a long row of houses end to end chimney to chimney a girl watches. Books and photographs are carried by others. A burning house is left by others.

There are books. There are photographs. There are children.

5.

this moment
I carry
this bird wing disguised 
as clavicle

wait
wait
wait
wait
wait

for the father
to arrive the father
to show his awesome powers

know with uncertainty the father
the underbelly of salvation
his great burning wings

6.

She hoards 
the relentless gossip
of fire her skin
won’t yield
its smoke-choked
sobbing