Poetry

Eating fire

it’s quite okay to eat fire

there are rules     a trick to it

so long as you don’t inhale

or swallow

you can ingest

all kinds of flammables:

billboards     hessian sacks

dressmaker patterns

old birthday cards     love letters

address books and showbags –

just spit out the purified lamp oil

if your bronchi alight –

even then from across the lake

a funeral boat arrives

like a pyre    and you can eat that too

because you won’t breathe in

you will be ready for any kind

of crash on the Wall of Death

or a fall from stilts –

the peace you feel will burn

so brightly because you have

lived momentarily

far beyond the water’s lit dark

where mountains waver and part –

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