Generally speaking,
one should avoid transparent containers
when attempting to starve a fire.

If not adequately covered each night
they’ll start to remember,
it’s the dark which should fear them.

They’ll keep right on glowing.
Melt straight through their enclosure
and flee through the nearest open window,
to nestle amongst decamped cigarette embers
and hubcap shards.

Or rush East.
Shine bright in an oxygen flood,
resting just a moment
before collapsing into morning.

No one ever goes searching anyhow.
Once it’s tasted wild air
a spark knows it has no business hiding
or obeying.
It just goes right on burning,

After all, our blood is mostly heat.
A pulsing canter of something primal.
Craving variance in structure,
the unspoiled viscera
it can hear cowering
just beyond the muscle and sinew.

An empathetic sanguine resolve
who without temperance
would course hot enough
to petrify marrow
reclaiming it’s rightful domain.
in a grand gesture shaped
and honed from spurts of desolation.

A constant flux of beautiful half memories
almost touching a better place.