Flame (poem)
Flame
You’re old
You’re a tactic with a history
purloined memory you tried and applied
On the word of a bombast, his nazi*ish ploy
it makes the town flame wonder
what propagation popped the hinges, and whether
here, in this place, a type too coincident
gathered, for reasons the investigation hasn’t
chaffed out
a touch of butane burner
might clear the husky side effects
spotlight the germ, slightly scorched
Jack of the lantern with his interest maxed
a severed head, but with cable attached
feels ignored, feels shrunken and poor
feels his inside parts slime the porch
You’re sparked
Can’t deny you were happier as a smolderer
You tried the flight of a fevered cinder
Splinter-sized and red with ire
Largely you burst when the day seemed warm
mapped hotspots to show how the wind was blowing
Cash-pots a joke for a future airing
Gift box a token to fuel reacting
Damned if you do have a past sitting banked
Damned if you don’t dare the oxygen tank
Something about your face and hands
Says been in places best not to have been
Flame
Male and Female
Fall Sick
(2020, Stephanie Foster)