Scorch
earth or skin,
burn
bridge or eyes.
What you
do with your fire
is yours
to choose —
put it out, even,
or confine it
to a hearth
and home. Pick
a commonplace
for it or
go on and bust
the box, let flame roll
across
metaphorical
prairie,
metaphysical
skyline. Or
put it out, quench it,
drown it,
smother it —
not my flame circus,
not my
hot monkey
to tame. Only this:
if it dies
unheeded, the cold
you feel will be
forever.
Dark Matter 