Day Twelve - NaPoWriMo

So We Decided to Burn, Burn, Burn. . .

like the homes of
contract Chinese workers
laying the steel rails
of a narrow gauge spur line
from Olympia to Tenino
who escaped into
the snow of Christmas Eve
with nothing but blankets
wrapped around their bodies like
coat of plates,
like the Chinese hand laundry
on the northwest corner
of 5th Avenue and Water Street
that disappeared
while its owner was
rafting mill waste wood to
heat the laundry water,
like the incense and
fireworks of Forest Cemetery
in springtime
where ancestral bones
lay waiting for
the bone gatherer
to carry them
to Heaven.