I Once Was the Smallest Flame in the Fire

I once was the smallest flame in the fire
dying to get out of the dry ash
cool my feet in wet grass
feel the untouchable darkness

I seem to have followed water
walking and watching my orange fluttering nightgown
even in dreams I can't forget walking
my breath is a constellation

melancholy burns in the big eyes of beasts
bearing bright red tears away
somebody's muddied their wading pool
the entire forest is quietly packing up

it's the wind that's bad
it pushes me like I'm a country bride
shaking limbs in the dark distance
it comes running telling of a bachelor chimney

an antique oven of green etched brick
a big-bellied shiny iron pot
sweet potatoes slowly sighing in content
dusky sulfur flaring on tongs

racing with smallest steps
I turn and suck sweet tree resin
from a red pine like a shepherd boy
chuckling I climb to his treetop

and spurt magnesium-white light
wings flap light and dark on the mountain
birds crash into the night, the village bangs a gong
as I scatter gold baubles in the grass

alone I smile in the mountain wild
hot air curling my black hair to the sky
the sun will come, I will fade
and shade at last into blue eternity