In a Risky Rhythm
She kissed the kiln and fired her tongue
in sparks which lit the rhythm stream
and reeked of rancid gasoline
and the blue of honest fire
She danced in shoes of kerosene
her heels in flint, her soles in sheen
as barefoot she would always be
to tattoo the earth with toe prints
She missed the mark and shot the sun
(which swallowed the fire come undone)
and swept up ashes noon 'till night
with anklets of turquoise and jade
She riddled wars and froze the moon
In silence, she slept on pitch and ink
and gained momentum for her dance
on edges burnt risky with rhythm.
Copyright © Tatyana Carney | Year Posted 2006
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