ARSONIST

When the fire started, 
I was sleeping. 

I escaped just 
before the house collapsed. 

I split the night open with grief—
I’d forgotten the cat. 

The next day I found him 
in a neighbor’s tree, 
feathers glued to his mouth, 
burnt matches tangled in his fur. 

I wept for joy. 

“Thank God,” I whispered, 
“I forgive you for not waking me—
but you—
how did you get out?”