They keep calling her reckless
like it’s an insult.
Like fire
has ever apologized
for what it consumed.
Wildfire was never interested
in being the good girl
in somebody else’s story.
She doesn’t wait
for permission.
Doesn’t ask
which rules can be broken.
Doesn’t soften herself
so frightened men
can call her safe.
She knows exactly
what she is.
A bad decision
with perfect aim.
A warning
wearing lipstick.
A match held casually
between two fingers
while Pharma insists
there’s nothing here
worth burning.
She smiles.
That’s the thing
about Wildfire—
she doesn’t need
to burn everything.
Just enough
to make them afraid
of the woman
holding the match.
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