to blink
after such travesty
to watchtowers,
is like a single
slow moving crack
moving across an
iceberg, becoming
jagged in the tide–

she should
know better how to
control her flames,
not just feed
out of control, their
heights engulfing
her ceiling and walls,
stiffling–

to break free
humid restrictions
and agony, replaced
forest breath with
quartz of roses for eyes