Royal Poinciana

a fire raged 
within the leaves
rubicund and gold
along the street

the battered house
like all its neighbors 
was a ghost 
behind its radiance

flashing leaf of titian flame
crimson tipped with glory
a fire burning 
but not consumed

its sap flows ichorous
to the root
whose sanguine fluid
must be blood

red bloom, 
trembling on the tree
whispers in the wind
of promised healing