creation...

in one calculated breath, you have stolen all
my carefully gathered air
and spewed it on the unhealthy fire i hoped
to suffocate.
flames lick at the dulled surface of my eyes
as you magnify unwieldy tongues,
leaping, trying to escape the heat of your
undisciplined energy…
you fan truth with inverted images;
the rush of air as you pass
bends the fire toward your heels.
but you cannot move logically and flames
destroy each other in confused pyromania…

i remain on my back looking up at the stars,
blinking indifferently—not following the obvious,
noting patterns of futile attempts to light the sky
with meaning and proportion.
my feet are hot
and i long for white isolation in cold sheets;
toes of your logic dig like ice picks into my skull,
prickling sensation to lifeless extremities…
your styrofoam words melt as anger blankets silence…
smoky protests fill my head and i cough before
i remember the damage.

i have lost my lungs living in this uncapped vacuum,
the iron walls my life now…
until you shatter my blanks with hatchets of contempt
and back-handed defiance.
the walls of your flesh expand as you draw in what’s left,
preparing to explode the flames and my indifference.
i turn aside to strangle ashy desire
before i lose to the andiron…
you tossed the liberated fire at my feet
as you rejoice in limbed ecstasy…

i glide unperceived back into silence
where i am destined to rule like the plump moon
in yellowed magnetism,
drawing power from the half-lit pump
pushing me in and out…
i watch the futile flames consume you…
you could never resist your own fire or
the watered mind i offered you…
i see you curl and wither amazed by your own power,
knowing i have drawn the last gasp of your inky reason…

shadows melt into final shades of gray,
rising and falling toward the stars,
buffeted by strong head winds…
they may incorporate your ashes into Orion
where you’d fit logically into the heel of his boot
along with other dog-eared legends…


creation...soliloquies
ja allen