Friday, September 30, 2016


and it awakes

crisp breaks of fire and frost
a synchronous pull
of burn and cool

a lullaby waxing
to the waning thrum of sweltry summer

that singe of ruby and spice
that birth of flame and ash
a charcoal slate
and fresh pages
with smoky edges
that crinkle under hand and foot


a perennial ember
that carves and takes
and clears a space
creates a hollow
sparks and scrapes

then soothes with icy hush

and tips you forward
empty and full and raw and ready

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