Skip to main content

Lake on Fire

This lake of fire licks the surface

of dead weeds, dreams, leaves

It engulfs all that is left

behind.

Old stories, broken spirits and drunkards

go here

to

die

Young children stare wide-eyed

at the blaze,

excited about all that

is before them

They near this lake

inquisitive to it’s beauty

As they draw close something

inside them stirs.

These children are children-no-longer;

fear stricken of the flames,

they draw in the loss of innocence

through the vortex of their eyes.

They walk away

sullen,

tarnished by the ashes.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Writhing With(in) Ink

This pigment creeps; It turns my pallid skin into shades of smudged charcoal, Breathing Black. Ink. I'm sinking in this puddle, my body a dying star collapsing in on itself only to expand again and diffuse into the universe I wonder if you notice the ampersand of my mouth every breath giving birth to letters and numbers forming mushroom clouds beneath the ceiling-- Each breath is potential every gaze a new word melded somewhere between this life and the unrealized Cool finger tips caress along my meridian lines tracing out the next stanza of a broken hearted widow or a school girl named Jaimie. I writhe with(in) this ink like a carbon copy pressed to metal, the pressure subsides and all that is left are faded imprints of the original There's a question mark on my forehead, it refuses to break loose.