• Midnight wields the moon like a brush

    Coating glossy oak leaves in opal sheen.

    Wind shudders, the world’s last breath

    Tinged with a melancholy wildness

    And I am the flame beneath water’s surface.

    Two warring halves, a torn whole.

    Impulses charge the air and quiver deliciously

    And are drowned in dignity, caution, doubt.

    I wish to burn untempered,

    But ocean’s depth, water’s steady ebb and flow

    Leaves me a lone wistful halve.

    Uncharred yet unfulfilled

    My prudent twin drains me like the

    Feasting of an insidious bloated spider.

    Until wildness is diluted away, only

    Some faint lethargic notion of fire uncaged