I imagine the idea of a dress
was stolen from a flower
in the year fire was discovered.
But no one is positively sure.
So desire is a controlled explosion
in which need is faster than light
and more precise than fire.
If that sets a dress on fire
or flowers explode, who cares?
It’s Spring and this is just
an idea for a love poem.
Although I’ve never seen her,
I make pieces of devotion
fill the darkness of her sleep.
She smiles to herself, I think.
It’s an eclipse. But who hasn’t been
blinded by someone lifting up her dress?
Such great danger and awe of beauty.
I’m unsure, the way children are
in the presence of a candle.
Intuitively they whisper, then-
well, I don’t wish to blow it out.
All our lives, wet logs in a fire,
desire is under control.
I’ve allowed myself to ask for beauty
and like beauty it’s unfair.
Good, we’re even.
The phenomenon of combustion means
no one is positively sure.
-Jack Myers from the volume “I’m Amazed That You’re Still Singing”