i am being burned alive
i am being burned alive.
my body, the stake,
every sensation
a lick of flame
up my spinal cord,
an everlasting hellfire.
four a.m.
the streetlight casting false shadows
before true day begins
before birdsong
before dogwalkers
before purring engines
is torture.
stranded between the borders
of sunset and sunrise.
listen to the ticktock
of the raindrops
on the metal awnings,
soothing, rhythmic,
maddening.
feel the housecat
rub against my leg,
soft, loving,
disheartening.
smell the freshbrewed coffee,
hear my husband’s good morning;
hopeful, content,
devastating.
all i experience is the fire,
nerve sizzling like a fuse,
greyish black smoke
choking back the possibility
of clarity,
immobile as an ancient tree
in the clearing
as the burning approaches.
yet, strangely,
i do not turn to ash,
forced to pass the ember
onto the next fire
that consumes me,
daily, a neverending cycle.
my smoldering remains
lay cindered ground
for the future,
enriching it that
tomorrow’s fire
consumes
hotter, fiercer.
please, hopefully, one day
will you thrash one last time,
finally spent, cold, painless?