Day 559

A child in a wheelchair
is rolling it with his arms, rolling it
on the rocky, dusty ground, when suddenly
fire falls from the sky, ignites
the boy.  The boy is burning alive
in his wheelchair and no one
can stop it, no one
can get near enough.  A woman tries
throwing a blanket to quell
the flames, but it doesn’t, the blanket
falls to the ground in the wind
from the fire. The boy
is screaming, screaming
the names of his mother, his father.
At last the flames, having nothing
more to consume, abate.  Those
witnessing can approach, can
see what happened.  The child
sits slumped in his wheelchair.
His body charred, his face
unrecognizable.  A man
touches the chair, metal arms
still hot.  Why is this chair
intact and the boy
dead? the man
cries out to nothing.
To everything. Wheelchair 
that had held this child
since the amputations, wheelchair
that has become his grave.