Latest poetry

Flame

Your labor, my peace.

You dance, I dream.

Leap, flicker, illuminate shadows

on the freshly painted bedroom wall, performing a private ballet

pirouette, plié, jete!

You, the ballet mistress and choreographer,

I, your captive audience.

Encore!

Your performance excites me, flame.

your beauty, my pleasure

your heat warms but holds no candle to my burning heart or

my greedy aching flesh that finds only an empty cold space where he should lie.

Flame

Privacy, please.

My breath, your death.

Good night,

flame.



Debbie Griffin