Brush fire

 

Thursday, September 04, 2014

 

Our fingers brush and something sparks

A device in me Tommy Edison barely imagined

Turbines turning with that first contact

And once begun unable to stop

I can barely move without feeling it poke me

From the inside out

So scalding I dare not touch it

Or expose it to air

Knowing that like phosphorous

It will explode into a flame I cannot contain

And barely kept quiet as I stagger around with it

A hobbling man with burning fingers

From a touch I never intended

But cannot take back,

I canít even find the fuse that touch lit

Only hear its hissing inside my head

And sense its growth I cannot long handle,

Sitting or standing or stumbling around,
I can only suck at my finger tips

Like a child hoping to suck away the burn

Wishing I could taste something,

Wondering if the rumbling inside

Leads finally to something else.

 

 


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