(Note: this poem was written for Sioux, a winner of the Sunday Quiz. She asked for either a poem about writing, or a poem to encourage her students. I hope that this is both.--Shay)
I said, damn the match that set me on fire,
But no one heard--
So I fanned myself with books, and oh
How I burned.
Damn the one who made me feel nothingly small,
This lonesome girl--
Then I spit my anger on a black-curling page,
And blistered the world.
Damn the distance that keeps my love from me,
The miles are sin--
Then I wrote out my love as a pink-fire dawn,
Warm on her skin.
Bless the match that each finger is,
To strike what I feel into words that be
An incendiary flow from soul to sky,
One burned-bright star that's made from...me.
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