Painted (Red Man)

Red man
sits on fire
in a yellow room.
He burns
from ground up.
Burns up.  Sits
in a fierce flower, a hothouse
flower.  Turns brown then blackens
after red, room browning
all over.  Yellow walls
and windows
pierced with sunlight
turn brown.
Red man cracks in half
and falls over.

Was I there when it happened?

He was watching the news,
I remember that.  Something
about evil plans
and lucky disruptions.

He sat there on fire.

Red man — is this
past or present?
Has this happened and we are
the ashes?

Am I red or is that some trick
of firelight off yellow walls?
Why do I feel
split in two?

But my room had blue walls,
so why do I feel they
were red, yellow, brown,
blackened, rimed
ash-gray?

I was Red Man
until the fire that painted me
swept through.  Was watching the news —

people were burning elsewhere
and he, she I, someone
felt it. Painted by it then;

still painted by fire.