he had heard of flame
described as

looking at his arms
at the rise
and retreat
he knew
it was apt

from blue base
to yellow
and to orange
waves of flame
all over his skin

he didn’t feel
but he was aware
of the intensity
of the heat he cast
all around him

he stood still

the flames danced

sometime soon
he knew

he would catch



Poem #478 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

4 thoughts on “ignition

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