Burning Down The House   Gregory Crewdson, Twilight: Plate 11, 2002, digital print of 8x10 glass negative   he walks two three times around the gas can slouched on his heels the building crackling his two teenage daughters stuck in a game of risk on the hood of the family station wagon ‘you might not know it yet but the balkans are mine’ she said the one bent over the polished chrome grill the back of the wagon stuffed with board games bath towels jewelry winter boots aromatics trinkets first editions large prints ‘when are we outta here? i’m about to be invaded’ she asked the one laid back across the windshield he follows his rut like a track like a car pulled by a chain to scrap he smells his fingers no lingering seagram’s or bombay sapphire only the crisp tart of gasoline & sulfur combustion rough heel standing callus standing orders to rest the time off nothing but time off now in the shadow of closed fences ‘you know we have to watch burn it down before someone gets to it’ soot under nails a book of matches strip wood kindling molded smoke between light & dark deciduous leaves the leaving he circles the gasoline head up there was nowhere else to go & they’d be coming soon
Geoffrey Nilson is a writer and musician from New Westminster, BC. His poetry has appeared in publications across Canada including PRISM internationalsubTerrainThe Rusty Toque, and rip/torn. In 2012, he was a finalist for The Malahat Review Far Horizons Award for Poetry. In the fall of 2014 he is attending The Banff Centre's Wired Writing Studio and he studies Creative Writing at Kwantlen Polytechnic University where he is the Web Editor for Pulp, a literary and visual arts magazine of student work.