Anthology of dreams (drownedinwords) wrote, @ 2005-11-04 01:37:00

Ash

I'd never cried so much
before dawn

Or sat so long
changing channels as my
palms filled

And later, with flickers
of another story of hell
and redemption

I burnt matches just
to watch them twist

As the greenness left them.

Some curled back
so blackened heads kissed
still-yellow stems,
scorching the fingers which pinch them.

Some went out with
barely a sigh.

And lit in pairs
they'd wriggle away from each other,
driven by the heat between,
or the desire of each to
be free of all their fire

So that I'd hold two
bent back martyrs
when they'd died.

Later, with the phone pressed
to my ear like a heart beat,
two performed a feat

unseen by me.

They twined together,
spiralled slowly into disbelieving
shapes