"Life and Pandemic" - Spring 2020

(heart)h
i am a gallery of
third-degree burns,
a child whose pocket
was always filled with
matches,
a bottle of aloe vera resting on
the back burner.
i have mastered
the art of
pyrotechnics,
learned what
sets you ablaze,
burned the wick
located in the
pit of your stomach.
i even transformed this
ancient grove into soft black velvet.
but perhaps
you’d rather suit the
slow burn
of a fireplace
in a nuclear suburb,
a timed stove
set to
low heat—
i am forced to
rake myself
Amanda Hall