Sunday, March 16, 2014

Ceremonials (ii)

You were all-consuming
and I chose to feed you,
a hunger I did not understand,
a fire I could not bend.

I filled my night hours
with smoke and coals,
fragments of your voice in my mouth,
every word deep in my chest,
every exhale a reluctant release.

I put my embers into a fountain pen
and wrote you love poems.

You should feel honored.
You had me spinning out on dreams.

But these pages have curled right up, my darling;
we've run all out of air.

There are ashes everywhere.

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