After we killed her, buried her body in the dried creek-bed, and you all drove off in your pick-up trucks, I lay on the soft earth on top of her grave and sleep came over me. In my dream I saw her, drowned in a crystal-pure river, her hair floating out in the water like angel's wings. She spoke to me. You have not killed me, she said, you've killed yourselves. Then the river burst into flame, and she rose on fiery wings into the sky and disappeared. I woke, picked up my shotgun from its place half-buried in the grave. I knew what I had to do. Boys, I'm coming for you.
After death's earth-drowned
burial, a girl's flame hums
life into the air.
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