Sitting The fire’s making me sweat Beads on my forehead and upper lip
The rain is pattering on the tin roof
And I am sitting next to the void
looking in
It is about what I feel
The feeling is night The feeling is warmth The feeling is kinship
Of the sleeping animals
The fire orange and amber light
The feeling knots my brow together And tightens my upper chest My upper stomach lurches and hurls and my abdomen paralyses
Seeking outward,
I can hear the sighs of the dog the purr of the cat the drops of the rain and the beat and the tune on the radio
My other half talks in his sleep a sporadic language that only he understands and the raindrops get heavier My body gets heavy
Then, I see the light of the fire and I hear the embers twinkle.