She lies, unforgiving, at my feet, heaving.
Her dry, brittle brush is burning green and blue flames.
Her voice, rasping in thirst, is beseeching.
“Why do you look at me with a stranger’s eyes?”
I turn my gaze away, repulsed by her neediness.
“Do not forsake me now!” she shrieks, feeding the fire with her powerful voice. “Do not remove yourself from what you see! For you are the one who lit the match, you are the one who stokes the coals and keeps me alive! You are mine!”
I sit beside her with nothing left to lose and hold my hands out to her. Slowly, deliberately, she forms blisters on my skin. I watch them sink into me, scarring my bones. When she is satisfied with her work, she slinks away, leaving me with the pieces of her she has embedded in me.
Her memories rush through me. I fight for her, rejoice over her, live with her, forget her and lose her simultaneously. I feel how broken she is.
I am doubled over in her pain, heaving with her sobs, when I become aware of the fire that is consuming me.
She has set me aflame from within, and I cannot put it out.
We stand together now, she and I, roaring out our passionate refrain.
“You are mine!”
“She is mine!”
“We will not forsake you now!”
And so we live, aflame, in our writhing land, and wait.
Colloquially Speaking 
Awe-freaking-some! Love it. Wish i could write like this.
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course you can – go to the deepest, darkest place in hell with a pen and paper and take notes – you’ve been there, haven’t you? otherwise, how did you know about Mistress of Misfortune? 🙂
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Missed this one……beautiful exactly you!
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I really enjoyed reading this. On my blog I recently wrote a few poems which some would call esoteric or ambiguous which lead to a “discussion” about interpretations. I doubt that I’m understanding it the way you meant for it to be understood, but I really liked it!!
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well, how are you understanding it? i did explain it in the next post, but i am curious to know how you read it.
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Yup, I noticed that even before I commented. That’s what sparked the comment because I didn’t even think that you were referring to the land. Somehow, I missed the last line of the poem which I think would have given it away to me.
Without that last line, I understood it as someone who had caused her friend pain and was now feeling the repercussions of what she had done to her.
(And on my previous comment, led* lol, not lead.. Yuck..)
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Just discovered your blog…I love your piece, “The Song of Fire.” Under the skin into the soul deep. And your fried carrots? Great writing; I felt the anxst. So glad things have picked up. Isn’t it sad that the generosity of others always seems like a miracle. Wouldn’t it be great if generosity was so commonplace that both the giver and the receiver simply felt equally blessed, and no one felt surprised or obliged or guilty for needing.
Be well.
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