Your ears ring with amber warnings
as the western horizon pulses orange.
The eastern sky wears a shroud of haze.
Dancing widdershins ’round the house,
The wind chants incantations through cracks,
spills in smoky pools beneath the doors.
These walls and floors breathe in —
barrel-chested men with wet burlap
fists — breathe out, beating back flames.
You lean against the upstairs window
silhouetted by sunset scorching distant hills.
Copper flames reel and stagger in your eyes.
When you turn to me, they sear my skin.
All the heat in my body rises meeting yours —
and invites you, with ink-singed fingers:
Come lie with me, as our flesh burns.
Let smoke fill your lungs, clear your head
of the spinning vertigo that haunts your soul.
—–
AUDIO FILE:
Pen's Ink 