INCANDESCENCE

By Ping Yee

My feed fires up some bar-brawl clip

or other: waistcoated middle-aged gent

holding his palm over a lit candle,

teaching some lout a lesson about pain,

strength, or something; David Carradine

watching on sagely. A flame’s blue heart

whispers some thousand degrees C, cooler

than the wellspring overhead, six thousand

to fifteen million degrees; shafts of starlight

marking me by my shadow on concrete.

Stewing in umbra, my embers judged wanting

while others’ ignite, sizzle to life; sparked

by fate, kindled by luck. Fuelled by caprice.

I snuff out my flame, draw out all air, stomp

hard on the wick, hobnailed. Kick the ashes,

flip over the brazier, the candelabra, the altar

upon which hope and dream rested foolish,

neverwaking before now hold my heart

dripping over the wreckage the flotsam the dregs

slam it down on my husk spewing

scarlet orange mauve emerald

heat

Jumpstarting my soul,

lighting

my own beacon.

#DarkPoetsClub