A Campfire Curse

Camping curse
a cherry-glazed donut
fire pit
spews sour lava
amongst itchy chits.

Satan is circular.
Branches browned
form a bowtie blaze;
his glow gathers us ‘round.

carburetor spikes;
evil loves a nickname
whispered through
transmission fluid flames.

Empire waist
night crinkles ashen spots.
Brave Pietá
mourns the blest body
of this year’s bonfire cheetah.

Flashback Track #33 is all about summertime. Join me in creating an elegy to one of your favorite parts to this fleeting season.


  1. We bought a tent with the intention of going camping. Mrs B outright refused to go near it. We did at least put it up in the back garden and daughter and I slept in it. Until about 4 am, when daughter decided she wanted to go in because she was cold, and I just decided “f this”.
    We are not a very hardy family.

    Liked by 2 people

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