Red Spark Passing

Pyre by Karen Lawrence

sordid burden torture

nails drawn blood off the page,

bitter cupped sun drawn on blinds,

silver and grey,

once sounded young as lean grass,

murmurs of broom over grave,

bleak gnat lands delicate,

without my wreath

i burn thorny pain,

of stacked timbers into pyre

vagabond read calmly,

as i am lain upon,

no rain on rapid flames

eventually be an ashen haze

lingering over muddy flowers,

my salt drawn away,

evaporated to a sky that has

an altered embrace,

smiles bare rock tooth gape

awaiting on the side once thought of,

my heart caught in a chest cleft

never righted my ways,

now melted i without grace

had departed

no one would remember the old times

only the flames

that gave to the night nothingness

Flame by Karen Lawrence