Home Fires

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There are flies on the wall.
Fly paper you joke – unfunnily.
(Is that a word?) They are listening to our pack of lies.
The unpacking you spit – sardonically.
(Real word, check,) and check your words.
Speak them slowly don’t spit.
The flies were just the beginning, you say.
There were fire ants later to set the house ablaze.
But that was a lie too.
Just sugar ants eating up all the sweetness.
The fire was in your belly.
Red and orange and yellow
On trees in Autumn those colors are beautiful
The beautiful fire of Fall, you’d say
Fall is right for the demise of this
Home
The flies the fires the lies the liars
This paper house burnishing disparate memories

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