What the Fire Keeps

I burn my poems sometimes on purpose
fire licks the edges
blackens my fingerprints

smoke fills my lungs
a taste that lingers
long after the ash settles in my mouth

I crave words that cut
bleed ink on the page
nothing satisfies this hunger in me

each morning I find crumbs of a burnt life
the bakery discards its failures daily at six a.m.
I watch them go without ceremony

I remember heat rising from my skin
the warmth I felt before the flames decided
they wanted everything

I am still deciding what to keep

--Vera