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)