Miro’s burning giraffe ran down Central Avenue
past the floats in the Day of the Dead parade.
The giraffe burned for eighty-five years
without becoming ash or rising from it.
Now that the giraffe was in the American West
it had visions of wild buffalo in flames.
Thunder lent the giraffe its voice.
It uttered a single command without verbs or nouns.
Burning buffalo erupted from the ground
from all the ordinal compass points.
A stampede set Western Civilization on fire.
Ravenous flames. An inferno of justice.
Ghost dancers rose from the grave
and planted smoky flags.
copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney