Chest burning as if
a little flame has been lit,
now scorching my ribs with
its flickering licks.
Heat is building, feeding on
bone kindling, sternum, and
collar dips glowing
like embers in a
dwindling pit—
the essence of
incandescence.
I’m petrified that if
I part my parched lips,
from my chest will bellow
smoke and swift singe.
And that if,
as in forests,
the inferno spreads,
my spark shower
will ignite
your temperate
chest.
pm poetry 