The day we looked up at a scarlet sky
from different standing scenes.
I was delineating the lights
and your temperature pierced thru the haze.
You know that could’ve killed million times
In quivers of my skeleton
Downright. But how
Your hit came in as droplets of serene
— How I was named after a wild fire.
From then too much I’ve been wondering
If the truth of you would diminish to some tints
As you might?
Or if people got haunted by heat
someways, sometimes,
and were to make sense you touch to burn:
As nothing truthful from you dims.
As nothing truthful underwhelming.
Oct 2022
Lancaster