On the Wind

I am a bird.
As I soar on sparking wings
I set the heavens on fire.

Everything
That you have only dreamt of,
Everything
You hoped to build on,
Is burning and cast down
In my whirling whiskey wake.

I am an effigy
Of a man you never knew.
Twisted and contorted
Smoldering.
The crowds gather around
And they scream for
Murder.

The wind from beneath
Is lifting.
Hot drafts plucking me
From the flames and
Licks of hate.

I am only
A smoking silhouette in the sky.

I am becoming
Rags picked up in the wind
As wings
And carrying all my disuse
Into the incinerator.