Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Twenty-eight
Spring 2012
 
The Fire-Eater
Donna Vorreyer

I stole ash from the fireplace, let it
melt on my tongue like black sugar
candy, craved that first, too-hot bite
of pizza, its blistering kiss burning
my soft palate. I still love to run

my tongue over the rough and crusted
skin inside my cheeks, lingering smell
of sulphur on my breath. I suspend
the torch above my mouth, then close
my lips around the fire, remove it still

lit. You applaud, but you cannot know
how I dream of swallowing it whole,
tending that blaze in my belly, its glow,
waiting for just the right moment
to exhale and birth a brand-new sun.

About Donna Vorreyer

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