They thought that I'd been through a fire.

After all, I smelled like smoke

And appeared singed

Around the edges.

It gave me an antiquated look,

Like an antebellum wedding dress

That yellowed in the sun.

But I was fresh as driven snow,

And lily white as virgin wool,

Or cotton newly blown.

Little did they know!

They thought I'd been through a fire,

But I'd only been decoupaged by the gods

To disguise my own bright flames

From this age, this generation,

That still would kill their prophets

If given half a chance.

-jenn