Firestarter

for my nephew, Ray

Since this morning he's gone through
an entire box of Safeway matches, the ones
with the outlines of presidents' faces
printed in red, white, and blue.
He's not satisfied with one match at a time.
He likes to tip the book over the ashtray
and light them up all at once, the flame
less than an inch from his fingertips
while the fathers of the nation burn.
He doesn't care about democracy,
or even anarchy, or the message inside
that promises art school for half price
if he'll complete a woman's profile
and send it in. The street address burns,
ZIP code and phone number, the birth
and death dates of the presidents,
the woman's unfinished face. I'm afraid
he'll do this when I'm not around
to keep him from torching the curtains,
the couch. He strikes match after match,
a small pyre rising from the kitchen table.
I ought to tell him about Prometheus
and the vulture, the wildfires
burning in the Oregon hills.
I want to do what I should
to make him afraid, but his face
is radiant, ablaze with power,
and I can't take my eyes from the light.

* Dorianne Laux is the author of three collections of poetry from BOA Editions, Awake (1990), introduced by Philip Levine, What We Carry (1994), finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, and Smoke (2000). She is also co-author, with Kim Addonizio, of The Poet's Companion: A Guide to the Pleasures of Writing Poetry (W.W. Norton, 1997). Her fourth book of poems, Facts About the Moon, is forthcoming from W.W. Norton in fall of 2005.