The Fire, the Word, the Unfilled
The revealing fire
bestows a certain
response: drawn or repelled
we accept its fate
as we receive those things freely
given, the mathematical laws
which render six
when two leave eight, or
the swan's slender question
curled around itself.
This is chemistry, the transformation
of one form to another—the espresso's
steam, the tear's
residue, light whispering across the field.
Jesus tells me which books to buy,
she says, but I read what I want
in the body's scars, the parallel lines
across my chest, which combined
spell pain and trust and years left
asunder, the cavity's desire to be filled
remitted without notice. But I am not afraid.