Poem On: Day 3

Vulpix (#037)

To all the earth-red girls
who wouldn't be shut in or up,

To the harvest-red hearth tindered
in the gasping spot behind their ribs,

To the truth-red flame you vomit
(or was it name aloud?)  before its purpose
roasts your heart, and the path

it lights on short days, and wandering
extras who call any new light
a ghost. Time made your long tails

lush. Time made you a prize
and you spoke pyre

to catching hands. To my vixens:
Stay far from the stones
they say will make you grow.