a mad capped turning of

fires that keep burning

burning, shifting under

neath a satin sheet.

of fire

and this voodoo spell of snakes

and rainbows has always had

me spinning a mad capped

turning of fires that keep

burning burning

burning burning

burning burning

burning satin sheets

this.

it's tricky, this

me wanting you to want me

underneath an opal

moon

just above charcoal

June. a day, a way, a

prayer that once prayed

bursts into flames that makes

me Joan of Arc, with my bones

brittle beacons to heaven

and a heart that just won't burn.

A cabaret of charcoal

this spinning ball of blue

full of combustible confidence

a carrousel of carosine just waiting to

explode.

this.

a single spark in chaos

starts the wheels whirling

a map capped turning of

fires that just keep burning

and it's trickey: this knowing you

not knowing me, not being

blind but not able to see.

But I'm so dry

but I try

dry

a

n

d

full of

this