Fire

Some say the burn is necessary
but I beg to differ.

Those rising feelings
when someone is on your mind.
Do they really mean to be there
or are they an excess of Dickens’s cheese?

Will you wake to find the burn
has melted your toasted thoughts
to reveal nothing but a corruption
of moldy imagination?

Of course there is that smile
and those eyes
that fabric touch
and the dancing soft-footed perfume
which as a whole burns holes
but really, do we need it?

That fire
consumes
resistance,
and yet …

How they fall

How they fall
the dead
already dying
before the fall

not long to go
it seems
as leaf’s breath
wind chimes death

imagine now
the dead
not quite ready
to relinquish

the call
isn’t such a thing
for no voice
of vibration exists

cold in the warmth
of coloured grief
where leaves
learn the lesson

of how to fall