Incendiary

She oscillates eight hundred ways --

sand boiled to glass pulverized to sand

boiled to glass pestled to sand

boiled to glass cheapened to sand --

in the moment when the raid abates,

palpitating, neon siren sated

by incantations, rehydrated pacts,

and numbers jockeyed just too high to act

on. The delicate throb of a shudder

applauds her infrastructure--

how lovely the poise of a girl, a wonder,

prodigy on the tine of a fork! -- honors

the silver embroidery under her sleeves,

the smile of lips, bereaved of teeth,

strung between her dimples.

Smile forbid to flinch, although today --

sand boiled to glass pummeled to sand

boiled to glass vaporized to sand

boiled to glass dissolved to sand --

but anyhow. The ears they payed to stay

across the desk from her remain

ajar from ones before advised

to leave them open, are yawned just wide

enough to fit a truth if it were

slender, gracile, regal, limber

enough, sheer and spare as filament,

corroded, empty by consent,

a dozen gray, braille ribs to read -- no!

are psychiatric foyers so

choked on lard and stigma

and latex daffodil bouquets --

boiled to glass shattered to sand

boiled to glass obliterated to sand --

On the hem of her vision, moths ablaze

singe her world to weary static, all of space

and daring ever both incendiary.