Fire (North Halls, State College Pa, October 1996)

Out of void nothingness, a woman

arose before me with incandescent

ivory skin; she said, “I will be yours,

worship you, make you incisive with

the vast, monstrous power of my

body; you will worship me, we shall

die together evening by evening.” I

embraced her silence, did not kill it

following, kissed her, we died together

then. She lifted her body, stood by the

window in the white/blue room, night

blackened against us. She said, “I

have encompassed you, scribed you,

you will never find me in you again.”

I pleaded her, fell upon her with kisses,

caresses, all in vain. Her name was

Fire, she told me, left me, never again

appeared. I sit, write, pierce what flames

still leap out of void nothingness— she

ornaments the darkness somewhere, burning.