Gasolina (poem 2 of 12, half marathon)


Smells like a flame
Something that’s about to ignite
Stings deep in the sinuses


Part of it is already
Becoming something else,
aerosol, evaporant.


Permissive, soaks into wood.
No texture, as it touches my skin
and starts to dissolve.


It takes the shape of its container
Flame thrower is a given
Advertised direct to your email
You don’t know why you need it
Until you hold it in your hands,
Until you douse a body,
And see it catch on fire.
Until you’ve scorched the earth
Everything an unrecognizable crisp.


It’ll cause a fire
To whir and roar
Have a its own heated weather sun
outrun a landscape already bone dry


This liquid is a love song,
A horror show
Fumes soak through even a porous
surface like cement
Carry fire through the stone
Sometimes cause a fire burrow,
A lava tube, just plain need.


Why would you need to place a thing
That’s already there, goes where it will,
where you wouldn’t think to travel
Like a soft rain at night, barely audible,
Like a cleansing whisper,
Just let it happen, let it absorb,
It’s on your breath
It’ll take any form, call it a wish, a taking
A draining, call it a slow burn. A swamp.
The original flammable gas,
Gators float beneath
Scaly skin coasened to the pet

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