Burning soul

Chilly Saturday morning

stale coffee warms in microwave

Last night you watched

a poet self-immolate on stage

Heard words crackling in the fire

smelled flesh sizzling like bacon

You sat transfixed until nothing

but ash remained on stage

And still you wanted more

part of you want to hug her

Part you wanted to flee

and part of you wanted to heal

You arrived home at 2:30 in the morning

sat in the rocking chair on your porch

Let the wind blow the smell

of burning soul from your hair

Before you went inside

crawled in bed and tried to sleep

10-19-19