The Fire

passionate lunatics 

slaves to the cycles of the moon

dizzy as fire water

cold as snow

hot as adrenaline pumped thighs, escaping spanish bulls 

pulled together

like magnets

yanked apart just as easily

forever and never. they will always be.

jealous…insecure…drama kings and queens prancing across life’s stage

unstable nitroglycerin

mixture of pure joy.

The laughs and smiles

the sighs and fights

but it’s really all bottled in the way she cries

the sudden, salty, and sweet.

the only way to get the crazy out.

the only way to sustain without burning out.

The fire 

will help us keep warm

even feed you, but won’t 

let us live 

if we let it live       too long.




how it was    it was

as if all of the blood in my body


into my loin

so that even my fingers grew stiff

but cold

and the heat of my rod

was my only burning


desire my only fire

and whether

i loved her

i wanted her whatever she was

whether a curse

or the wife of Uriah

— Lucille Clifton