Don't Drink Bees

If I had to be fire,
I would not melt little boys' toys
I would not singe teddy bears
I would not touch a child's room at all

I would ease down the hall
seeking out junk mail to lick at,
not letters and family photographs
I would feast on replaceables
such as spice racks and folding chairs
not the table from Great Grandmother
Family heirlooms, I would leave alone

I would warm vegetable cans
so they would bulge, but not explode

I would warn away mice
so they wouldn't cook
as I passed their way

I would hold my breath
so the smoke wouldn't get into
the clothes and furniture and stuffed animals

I would stifle an urge to sneeze ash
all over the contents of the house
ruining that which had escaped my flame

And when I saw the firemen approach with a hose,
I would put myself out,
so there would be no need for water
nor water damage

I'd leave a darkened spot on the wall
by the electrical outlet
so they'd know there was a problem there
and they would fix it
so they wouldn't be visited by another fire
later
perhaps one less caring
than I