Birling

Dwarfish tenements holding dreams in house-shaped buildings
only three inches tall, frail and flammable as hand-made matches

Once thrown at me, gathered
their scorched heads nest in my palms

Pointless spires you called fury them crosses—I loathed belief

Prone to model buildings I stack wooden stick upon stick
Glue anytime I can 

A birchen cathedral arises from splinters
Whither the fire?