Arsonist

Photo by krisna iv on Unsplash

The fire always finds me

I’m like

A houseful of dried leaves

Or

An altar of spray cans

Or

A basket of newspaper

I just go all up in it

Before I even noticed her

Promethean glare

Sculpted limbs

Dangerous mouth

I turn around and

She’s there,

With a lighter

With a torch

With a flamethrower

And I go ashen

With desire

All consumed

All transmuted

All resurrected