fire

you’ve seen her before

a fingernail in a candle

her lips hovering in front of yours

wrapped around you like a blanket

on the coldest night of the year

crackling like gum.

you told her:

i don’t want you

[you are too beautiful, too strong]

i don’t need you

[the force of you power scares me]

go away.

she exploded, then turned to smoke.

her body scorched

white as

the hands that constrained her.

lips brush soil

tongue licks brush

come back-

poem by Alana Fichman