Under the volcano

[more thoughts on fire...]

If the world runs through us,

our experience synonymous to wider patterns,

i find you in the contact edge of lava and air.

the ember lace of combustion,

snaking.

I intuit the wood, the soil, the wind

but the fissure,

the molten core

are mystery.

I stand under your volcano

under the salvo,

willing your armoury on like

joan of arc

to burn away the dead.