Fire

To write one true poem.

The year begins, and I hear the words again:

To write one true poem.

From my wall hanging.

The one I stop and read.

The one about loving wolves over dogs.

Make haste for your gifts.

Prepare for the words to light you up.

I don’t know which words are from the poet

and which words are from me.

All I know is every good time I remember well

includes the steady drip of poetry.

How words have seduced people to love me.

How every time it happens,

every time I light someone on fire

with my words

I am surprised

and alive:

here for what I came to this world for:

here for the words

that light people up

like a fire they didn’t know about

the fire that lives at their center

if I could create a destiny

it would involve me & a room & words

an apt audience

one the communicates back to me

one that looks lit

lit from the words we toss

back and forth to each other.

All those coffee shops & letters that I wrote

like to that beautiful boy who said, You wrote that?

I wrote that.

I am going to write my way out of this box.

Watch me burn through the words.

Watch me light this world on fire.

Watch me burn this world with lovely words.

I’m lit. Struck & lit. Watch this container burn.

Light me up, lit & struck: word.

 

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