The decorum of fire...
-- Pablo Neruda

We learned the decorum of fire,
the flame's curious symmetry,
the blue heat at the center of the thighs,
the flickering red of the hips,
& the tallow gold of the *******
lit from within
by the lantern in the ribs.

You tear yourself out of me
like a branch that longs to be grafted
onto a fruit tree,
peach & pear
crossed with each other,
fig & banana served on one plate,
the leaf & the luminous snail
that clings to it.

We learned that the tearing
could be a joining,
that the fire's flickering
could be a kindling,
that the old decorum of love--
to die into the poem,
leaving the lover lonely with her pen--
was all an ancient lie.

So we banished the evil eye:
you have to be unhappy to create;
you have to let love die before it writes;
you have to lose the joy to have the poem--
& we re-wrote our lives with fire.

See this manuscript covered
with flesh-colored words?
It was written in invisible ink
& held up to our flame.

The words darkened on the page
as we sank into each other.

We are ink & blood
& all things that make stains.
We turn each other golden as we turn,
browning each other's skins like suns.

Hold me up to the light;
you will see poems.

Hold me in the dark;
you will see light.

A tasteful melody,
Strums in the back of my ever-wandering mind,
Haunting memories of bittersweet simplicity,
Heart-shattering strain and pain,
Agony and pain in each cord,
Each cord resounding with disdain,
As the beat drones on,
Oh it goes on for so long,
The tune dances and strolls along,
Repeating my familiar song.

An ever growing melody,
Lingers on my bursting chest,
Beautiful without rest it continues on,
Each note caressing the four, pale walls,
Seep through the cracks,
For it cannot be contained for long,
As the beat drones on,
Ever going strong,
The tune rejoices along,
To my ongoing song.

A rampant, restless melody,
Pounding my temples as if caving in,
Raging and contemplating sounds,
Oh it resounds quite loud,
The clashing and clanging of the cymbals,
Is almost captivating,
As the thunder joins the throng,
As the beat drones on,
Shouting as it rages along,
The clamor continues headstrong,
To my always familiar song.

A quite, calming melody,
The blissful peace it brings,
Stay awhile dear in this haven,
As the harps ring out and the lilies sigh,
Oh everybody knows this one,
It's symphony is crafted and strong,
As the beat drones on,
Such a lovely and beautiful song,
Glorious as the tune plays on,
To my favorite kind of song.

A fading melody,
Timeless cares of you and me,
The weather piano is drowning,
In a dark and dreadful song,
Weeping a lullaby never-ending,
The flowers sway along,
As the beat drones on,
It has gone on for so very long,
And the tune once sung is finally gone,
To my old, familiar song.