Flaming Air

I breathe in the flaming air, my friends,
I strike the flint on stone.
Spiced, flavoured thoughts of a thousand years
Are my stuffing; I am a corpse, my friends,
A mummy; I laugh with a rattling laugh.
I’ve inherited only teeth and claws;
I bark in a borrowed tongue, my friends,
I bark in a borrowed tongue.

I am a stone that crashes against
The glittering glass of this mirror-studded town;
I’m the crack between its jagged shards:
I widen it inch by inch, my friends, I am the space between.

In the morning I tend my weapons, my friends
I test the edge of the blades on my palm.
I’m a python in the darkness of night.
My tail is in my mouth, my friends, it is myself I devour.

My neck is in a noose; perhaps someone
Else is pulling the rope, my friends.
I dangle in a no-man’s land.
Not wishing to die, I die, my friends, not wanting it, I die.

FLAMING AIR