“On the Night of the Fire

the Oakland Hotel, the town’s last, abandoned

for a decade, proved the fire marshal right

by burning to the ground.

Embers winged in air, ash

drifting back to earth

as far away as the courthouse steps

and Elk River Road.

Theories swirled:

started by vagrants, meth-

heads, the mayor —

accident or arson.

The heat so great

siding melted from buildings.

Insulation dripped

from TV cables, telephone

wires.

Green leaves curled

into brown on oaks

halfway up the hillside.

People wandered from

their homes, drawn

to the light, until half the town

watched in pajamas and sweat

pants.

Dogs barked for hours

and hours afterward

just in case we

missed the message.