by Wayne F. Burke

The moon is on fire tonight
and the walls of this room
are alive with
rivers flowing
and vegetables growing
and lovely shadows and snow
in black and white like
TV in the 60’s
and the radio is on to
a Springsteen song
“can’t start a fire”
and I have a fire
in my pants
that can’t be extinguished
keeps burning me at night
I get up and jump into the tub
but the fire regenerates
smolders as I sleep
and in the morning
a new scar
I got
to go with
the old one
down the middle
of my heart.


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