Detroit Uprising, 1967: The Burning Rats

Paul David Adkins

They burst from the busted basement window of the flaming Brenda’s Cleaner, 100 sparks,
spilling down 12th and Hazelwood, scattering the looters,
Pamplona from Hades.

And squealing, like getaway cars, boxcars pulled by the heft of their own agony,
lighting the scattered trash.

That twisting ribbon: ululating fuse, orange in moonlight,
stretching for dozens of yards,

before each ember extinguished itself to a ribbed wick of tail
twitching like a split worm.