The Flame Quickens

Burned, I remember
patterns of rain sinking
and the zen-like
trajectory of things

that catch on fire
and fall.

I will miss the black
stars, the two yellow
planets whose sadness
was this life 

looking out through 
the bodies window.

The smokey ring,
the coal eye narrowing,
a strobe light catching
motion, the click, click

click from birth
to quickening flame;

an orphan striking
matches in a thunder

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