Candescence
once, when the sky dreamed a luscious purple cream,
we lit up electric, hissed like vapors charged with violating
every unwritten word. undulating flame,
we were the surface of the sun, searing edges
and licking whatever had not yet come down.
as if late for a train and without a ticket,
we left the station blazing,
red flames crackling off our backs,
shooting out our fingertips.
nights were full of blues,
we were the wax candles on the bedside,
melting the sideboards, fire at the edges of the room,
we were singing the screeching song of wild cats
in search of their most luscious prey.
it makes sense, in some convoluted thought,
that now that you have become only the soft silent ash,
not even a tendril of smoke left
where we once sizzled hot like your wrought iron skillet.
we burned up that trail and left only air, clean and empty,
without as much as a hiss, all order restored.
Melody Sokolow is a 64-year-old autistic artist, former ballerina, and writer of life, sharing her gift of adventure. A lover of literature and the written word, she plays with a virtual toolbox full of color and music. Her poems have been published in several print and online publications, including Deracine, Helen’s Lit Mag, and Headline Poetry. Recently relocated to Maine from Oregon, she is originally from Los Angeles.
