Poetry

Disco Infernum

If the fires should jump, my love,
let us become as hoses
and gush, and fight heat
with liquid majesty
and science.
If the burning breaks
all the barriers,
and hugs our clothing close,
the better to grip our flesh,
then I will my ashes
to swirl on the wind,
and dance all the way to paradise,
which is any place cooler than this.
Lay my memories upon
the tongues of the living
so they speak,
and swallow sadness,
that then leaks out their tired eyes.
A sizzling dinner,
a cooking breakfast,
campfires encircled by song
as night burns all the light –
memento mori, please,
memento mori.

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