Eyes nearly shut staring into the sun
Lids become shimmering slits of a blade
Incandescent. then the lashes would braid
Twin suns inside sockets, rays start to run
All shapes formlessly merge into one
But the glow will soon fade
A shadow would slowly quicken inside
Like a shard dropped off a porcelain cheek
Like an ember unweaving a veil of white silk
It's got flames in its gums, it's got ash in its bite
Glaring and scorching yet tender the light
But its tendrils are weak
Who am I, immolated from skin down to marrow
Like an ash-tree with cinder under its bark
Am I the bleak void, am I the spark
Am I a burnt piece of clay running fallow?
I am the antumbra of my own shadow
But it will soon be dark