The Conflagration by magnolia wilson
Chain smoking, fireside A drunkard with metal eyes reads my palm, intersects life and heart The grinding voice tells me I’ll bear no children, die young Declining prophetic advances, I light another grand idea Because ignorance is not the same thing as amnesia Machine whir fades to gentle murmur as I violently shake soot from my ears Hurling up the stairs, I spit blood onto the concrete Feels like being led astray, tripping on an overflowing ashtray Gleaming out the kitchen window, you stand red hot Because I don’t need to tell you what longing is You’ve a cast iron heart, stoked and persistent I’ve a hole in my head, filled with feathers and swill You rise and sparks ignite, become engulfed in light I stand, weary muscles indenting dark earth, and cast a shadow Because brave can merely mean getting out of bed Perched over you, your tendons between my teeth You tell me I smell like a dog And I howl from your slash-and-burn As you wipe ashes from my eyes Because it’s not raining unless it’s felt on the top of your head and you’re not real unless seen by the tips of my fingers Unrefined, absent mind synapse back into place Blood thickens, the tourniquet tightens, even my marrow is laconic I grasp at soil, choking on your smoke, yet still crooning for your heat Then you smolder over to me, I flash my sharp canines, and together we rise Because the most we can offer is a brilliant conflagration
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