Poem

You have my blood pump yet
avoid my body entire. Love an
ever-present kindling, waiting

Waiting for one to bring
fire; your eyes, your
glance, your
flint and iron could
ignite my pyre.

Day by day I turn to ash a
single breath could smash and
send flying on the wind; Aeolus
waits on
his
accomplice
that
I may cover the Earth
with
the pure chaos of my
new-found state of
dissolution.