TO LIMN AS FIRE DOES
Proximity to the licking, as it gathers
Bright and sad fuels, hot forked tongues doing as I do, me
With a great peat of regret that I can offer neither you,
Nor the grate— is enough, is
Proximity to this consuming is
To warm over rain-choked retrospection merely.
If you’ll have me, hot ash-mirror to your own bright sadness,
I promise to be a real hearth, in time,
To harness a gutter to my fascia, to limn as fire does,
the unsayable things I did not do
and those I did.