Scorch

Like a moth
To the bulb
Flaps translucent wings,
I hover above insignificant things.

Scratching and pressing
To just let me in.
To bake and to broil
All of my skin.

Enfold me in light,
Hot and blinding.
Peel off the surface,
Dull and reminding.

Layer on layer,
Tea tree tissue paper
Floating on trade winds.
Natural napkins.

Open sores of a puzzle,
Clotted and dabbed.
Pink orange pustules.
Maroon ochre scabs,

Hissing and sizzling
Dripping and drizzling,
Tender for picking
Clean off of the bone.

Pulling and crackling,
Calling me home.
After the stench
Hangs sour in the air,

This world won’t remember
My deep shadow there.
The heart of the matter
Let go of the care.

2/26/22