It is the sky–
waxy iridescence with
wick and rounded
flame above

It sweats
sweet beads and
skin remembers earth;
all dissolves
in this sugar solution—
lifts up wispy arms

scars and blemishes
fade into beauty
as white smoke
rises. molten
core cooks the
feast of life in
this pot.

is it any wonder
that fire calls
to fire and
they long to be one?


  1. says

    Kathleen, I read the poem in light of your comment and now I’m blushing too! Nancy, don’t feel bad…one of the things I love about poetry is that we take away our own meanings. This one came to me while watching the sunrise one morning last week. The rising mist made me think of the fire below–the earth’s core–and the fire above–the sun–reaching out to one another.

    but I like the way Kathleen thinks too. 🙂

    weird, i know.

  2. says

    I have read this several times because I really like the way that you write and your images. I love your explanation of it – makes it all the more real.

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