Thursday, January 12, 2006

Matchstick

one matchstick has indelibly dreamed
of fire as two somehow create a joint
where they have burned together to a point
of ash and smoke – two columns, seamed
and joined and wholly unredeemed
by usefulness but something will anoint
their foreign boldness: “wir sind freund mit freund”
and water that was once flowing now steamed

so if I check my feelings at the door
and enter into this dark, smoky room,
expecting something to rise from the gloom,
intending to extol it and ignore
the wreck of our ambitions, nothing more
will come of it but ashes on the broom

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