I'm Going Back, a Prose Poem by Burt Rashbaum

Slurry bombers dumping fire retardant in strategic areas to try and put out hot spots, keep the flames from jumping and spreading via the tops of thick pines. The fire nearing a small town where they had friends, consisting of more ancient homes, rickety cabins than sturdy recently built structures. Panicked pounding on the door made him jump. His friend from the town he’d just been reading about stood there at his door, wild-eyed, his face blackened with soot and ash. He smelled like smoke, gripped his dog by his collar. The dog looked terrified. His friend, shaking all over, tried to speak, no words came; his mouth moved, no sound. He reached out and grabbed his friend; they hugged, this huge beefy guy, so stoic, the mountain man, bawling like a baby. Finally, his friend broke away. “I’m going back,” he said. His friend was down the stairs and out the door, in his car, started it up, peeled away, tires screeching. His friend’s dog looked up, their eyes met for a second, the dog laid its head down again and closed its eyes.

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Burt Rashbaum’s publications are Of the Carousel (The Poet’s Press), Blue Pedals (Editura Pim, Bucharest) and his new novel From Where We Came (Story Sanctum Publishing). His poems have appeared in A 21^st Century Plague: Poetry from a Pandemic (University Professors Press), American Writers Review: Turmoil and Recovery (San Fedele Press), The Antonym, The Seventh Quarry, Storms of the Inland Sea (Shanti Arts Press), Boats Against the Current, The Ravens Perch, Valiant Scribe, The Bluebird Word, The Seraphic Review, The Nature of Our Times, and Metapsychosis.