lay it in the heart(h)
and
watch with unglazed eyes.

see the blaze play its part.

as it consumes all to ashes
before it
reluctantly wanes and dies.

There’s a holocaust
sweeping through my body
but i call it
love,

strap myself to its stake
as a sacrifice, relish
how its fire

dignifies me,
how the tongue-like torso  
of my scent
rolls out to taste
God.

You, with the hot air
for hair, you
with the sparking skin,
feed my flames,
you

hearteater, the mouths
on your cheeks
open wide
& I enter, as if to join
the rest of me; see

how all that is left
circulating in my veins
is your voice; my body,
now inanimate,

an instrument for your
heartsong—hear
its cinders sing like
cicadas—here

is the sequel to your stones
thrice striked.

warmth and
kindness is
embodied
in the flames
that keep you
from tripping
in the dark.

it can protect
as well as
keep you
away from
being harmed.

her loving and
everlasting glow
shall be
touching to those
invited to stay
at a place called home.

i’ll be waiting
in this forsaken hearth
where there is
no more fire left
to give me warmth.
i’ll wait until the sun rises
or until it sets.
i’ll wait until the rain stops
or until it pours more.
i’ll wait until it’s noon
or until it’s already four.
i’ll wait until you come back
or until I lose myself
in this cold, cold night.
oh, beloved —
salvage me tonight;
or else, I’ll fall apart.

I can't possibly judge you
That you left me in a trice
From your hands cold to the touch
to your heart - a ball of ice

Yours collided with the warmth of mine
It gradually took a different shape
You said I robbed and left your soul
but it was yours that melted

I held the ice for far too long
My hands became too numb
They had to cope with all the cold
you always brought along

One may say the ice just vanished
I may argue it fused with my skin
From there it went through my whole body
and now I have it always in me

I loved you a little too much
And held you for a little too long
Why does it hurt so much
when you left me all on my own?

It hurts not because I miss you
That episode is long-forgotten
It hurts because you rendered me
just as you are

It hurts because whenever I go
I see you in myself
The ice is still in my blood,
my bones, my neck and veins

I know that somewhere, in the deep
There's still a source of love and warmth
It's my sanctuary, my hearth and outset
And I'll find my way back there
again

I'm barely at home
There's my wooden furniture
These my plates of chrome
A fridge full of nourishment
My marble dome
But I'm barely at home

I've barely a hearth
This a room of my choosing
That there my land on earth
My book shelf for musing
Amenities for mirth
But barely a hearth

there is a moth that resides on my bedside table
inside the warm lamp like a womb
like an endearing cozy hand
reaching for your face in the middle of a frozen hysteria
he rises from his bed of light every night
a bottom floor full of mirth and fuzz
ready to relay the songs of his memories
slow dancing in the small space of my room like he's memorized where the floor slants and what parts creak
his mouth moves in a jagged frenzy and I am devoured inside the falsetto of a pregnant hum so constant my breathing loops in significant O's
he waits for my eyes to close so that his wings open up
moving the dust to gather itself and move to another part of the house
the fluttering in sync with the wavering of the hypnotic sound waves
the antennae sighing along with the mist outside slowly forming on the windowsill
my head becomes a hot sun and as the beads of sweat trickle he moves closer until he reaches with spindly legs
drying the perspiration from my forehead with a tongue that shushes me to sleep until I am still in a cocoon of silk
telling me that want and need are always the same things
always the same things