I dance with you on the hot coals of desire.
Sooner or sooner those tender soles shall burn.
Desire, cornered, always dances faster,
but the white embers of longing outlast us.
We can flee the fire or be burned alive.
Stay and burn or leave and survive.
It doesn’t matter.
We have licked the flame of unrepentant desire.
Memory scarred to a point of stillness.
The fire itself, eternal, endlessly kissing the midnight sky.
I burn for you, and I shall never know why.
Beth Firestein