Incendiaries

October 3, 2016

a-woman-on-fire

I suppose she burned because the night was hot
– the window closed, the sheets too close –

but when her eyes and heart and limbs took flame
and she belched cinders into the night,
perhaps it was because she saw him there
– closeted in walls of paper and ink –
his baffled idealism, his dark
and self-destructive bent.

He was the Revolution,
Torch and Candle in the darkness
and perhaps

she was only kindling after all.

He drank a glass of deep red wine,
knowing nothing about her, or how
her ashes blew in the wind.

Jane Crowley

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: