The Art of Passion

Ask about the aching, and I

will tell you

about greenhouse glass,

how our dreams

tick at the cracks

of panes.

You said

it would be this way, the fire

seen through smoke spheres,

while crumbling

bricks of bitter fall slowly

onto red dirt,

sending a ripple of ashes

into the ferns.

Now you rust

into earth

through porch flames;

You were lost

in the art. You know

it will begin this way.

#poetry