translation by fire
pages oscillate in the wind
lightly swirled by the evening breeze
burned words thread the eyelashes
the fire didn't really start
until we gave it something so it knew we trusted it
heated orange fingers rupture, pull back, and hungrily consume
the tangibility of our evidence
even if you could
reach through the heat
words would crumble
disappear into the grooves of your fingers and hands
puffed my cheeks too far out
empty breath
no matter how softly blown
won't sustain any fire for long.
We drew or real names in the white ashes
stamped punctuation into the stubborn embers
& swept away any evidence of a fiery past life
fire leaves so much space
and I've become so hungry
I might burst
with any luck
strength will rush into me.
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