The Burn

fell beneath the skin line,

sliced between his ribs

and lit upon a vast darkness,

a nothingness painstakingly ignored

convincingly denied.

he did not hear her words

but nodded mute agreement just the same,

waiving her away without daring to look.

hoping how he caught his breath escaped her

she moved away as any other day,

unmindful of his suffering,

of her pyrotechnic power over him.

unaware such careless collisions of her fingertips against him

meant anything more than the delivery of mail, messages

and coffee.

Or, that they caused anything remotely in the third degree

she never even smelled the smoke

as she dreamed of setting such fires

in other men.

and went about her drudgery.

an accidental arsonist

igniting the embers

of his smoldering heart

--Karen Suriano