SHE SITS AND BURNS

 she no longer flinches when she thinks of him

or cries when her body feels like a cage

instead she sits in the dark

                           and burns

like the rushed cigarette before a fist fight

like the gasoline-soaked rag peeking out of the bottle.

                    she sits and burns

with a fire that doesn't know the threat of its            

                              intensity

    a fire that hungers for its own heat.

              ask her what sort of reasons

                 could justify such a rage

                     and she will answer

            there are a dozen beside me

            and a thousand  behind me

        who carry flames in their pockets

    and hide the smell of smoke with silence 

ask the question that you already know the        

                            answer to:

         why would the flames surprise you

when your fists are full of burned matches.