Letters of an ash

I made a fire of white ash and ember
It licked and
melted the cold; grain by grain of wood
rolled up the
smoke-stack into a night as gray as
stray pack dogs-
Dully colored as old letters and licked
postage cement
Words inside of love and how tired he
was, draining through
my fingers like sand. And my eyes
straining like a
dumb fish’s eyes on a sandy shore.

So, I poked at the carbon heat in my
paisley dress-
between one feeling and another
Flakes of
envelopes bending and cringing,
splitting open
like ripped bags; dying thoughts,
blackened edges
rising choking on sooted smoke
A tear, then
a tear wilting at my feet. Blue flame
shredding a
log with a blind eye, it consoles me.

Copyright © 03/05/17 lance sheridan®

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