First Fire
Lap with the tongue
and O with the lips
a could be fire higher
Where oracles rest
on rings of stone
Inhaling crisps out of
would be bodies,
out of wood be houses;
a life
While the rubbing sticks
twitch-the full moon stares
Burning memories of the
first man-his first design
and warmth-now mine
Copyright © Meghan G | Year Posted 2012
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