Phoenix -- A Poem of Warning Signs and Flames

it doesn't burn.
Frankly-- It tickles.
You'd think remaking the world
in my image would hurt & --

consume me
in fire & ash
crosses on penitents foreheads

in memoriam
for all things that pass away
clearing the path for being
born again

in phoenix flames
that mark me. Warning
the universe outside,

"Beware the willow
that bends
but does not
e
br ak."