1. One day at fourth grade assembly they spook us about house fires, air films of flames digesting shingles and professional actors overwhelmed by incendiary shrapnel from the ceiling.
2. The third-nicest thing my dad ever did for me was go into the backyard and discharge the fire extinguisher.
3. A loud flume arced between the night sky and the flood light's penumbra.
4.. I had told him I was scared of a fire.
5.. The whole truth: I was scared to be blind in a fire.
6. I had dreamt for several nights of throwing myself on the ground, belly-crawling down the hallway with the 70s carpet.
7. I needed to know could I secure the heavy tank by touch, pull the pin, squeeze the trigger, but I was too anxious to try.
8. I think his demonstration was to show me it was safe, not unconquerable, or that he could protect me.
9. In my heart I did not receive these things as true.
10. I did try.
11. But he dreams continued. To flee the boiling canopy—elbows, knees, elbows, knees inch forward.
12. In school the facial tics got worse. No one said / did anything.
13. I was starting to grasp that normal children didn't behave like this.
14. There was no way to stop.
15. My face was raw from the damage my fingernails did to it.
16. Things happened at school that I don't like to talk about.
17. But I was so young (ten) and who can blame anyone? Now, when I stand in tadasana, how can I blame---
18. The birr of my blood thrums in through my feet, up through my thighs. Up still further.
19. Until my crown is ablaze or—.
20. I'm still afraid of burning.
[I wrote this late last night to post this morning. Ironically, I poured boiling kettle water over my hand before I managed to get the it in the french press.]
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