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.