Incendiarism

Kaitlin Rikala

Turpentine spills over moss soft wood, a steady hand pours amber fluid into the cracks of the overripe boards. She plucks a magazine from the stack she brought along, Good Housekeeping, 1952, from a chipper orange Clipper blossoms a chipper orange flame which gobbles through furled edges, Good Housekeeping, 1952. The blonde child sledding down its cover does not cower as coffee table material becomes kindling. She relinquishes the fire as it singes hang nailed fingertips, abandoned to the stack from which it came. Her knees crepitate as she rises from her curated crime scene, relinquishing this untrustworthy house to cremation. Its very own, self-inflicted, cauterization.