A Poem by Denise R. Weuve

Fire Eater

 

In Malibu

the fires

are finally 

 

out, but ashes

hover

like fine despair.

 

Somebody's hopes

cover

my Toyota

 

and I dust them

away

the way you once

 

did me. But I

should not

care when I hear

 

you are engaged

yet my

stomach tightens

 

on the smoke that

is your

ghostly presence

 

still on my love

seat. How

quickly could I

 

extinguish

your new

woman's burning

 

if I told of

our bed

smoldering lust

 

into love. Tongues

darting

like blue flames

 

into each others

mouths

‘til we ignited.

 

I always knew

I was

strong enough

 

to eat fire. Would

she leave

you? Cold gray groom

 

at the altar

the way

you left me for

 

an icy North,

when hot

embers still burned

 

in my stomach.

I am

fine now, gutted,

 

an empty house,

fodder

for men to search

 

through. Still, I wish

you the

best, but warn you,

 

not all women

can eat

fire and survive.

 

 

 

 

Denise R. Weuve’s work appears or is forthcoming in Carnival Literary Magazine, Emerge Literary Journal, Eunoia Review, Gutter Eloquence, Pearl, RipRap, San Pedro River Review, and South Coast Poetry Journal. She teaches English and Creative Writing in Cerritos, California and is actively seeking the perfect MFA program (or one that will take her-which ever comes first). She collects paper cuts, and other miscellaneous damage to display in glass cases (her blog http://deniserweuve.wordpress.com/). Contact her at Inkdamage@gmail.com or follow her on facebook, http://www.facebook.com/denise.weuve.1.