...a maelstrom
curses
bewitches, enchants
fire, burning bright,
alive--awake!
Soaring, circling,
higher
into a fresh sky
that tastes
of want.
Roiling, churning
plumes of smoke
and wind
threaten,
eat my words
burn my tongue.
I taste of desire.
Sparks twist
amongst
tattered spirals
of sunset
romance and rage
without
knowing, without
release.
Dusk looms,
and makes war
with the innominate.
