On Fiji every night, Flaming Teeth tore around tearing around
The tender tasty edges of every fleeing Fijian too slow
to see his teeth approach—surprising since
they flamed, large as tree trunks, cooking prey as he chewed.
Sick of villages burned and being consumed,
they set the trap in darkness—the only light in the world
jutting in red tongues from his teeth.
How many must have swarmed
around the rock to raise it, let it fall
and scatter those burning toothy logs across the countryside—
to be carried back to smoking ruins,
Their own fire at last, a hearth
conjuring like magic from magic
their cozy homes, lights to blind the night.
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