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An Employed Poet

there is fire and there is fire /
the difference is in tracking /
down the source of the flame /
in this trickling southward body /
did it spin the spiked wheel in /
a flurry of threads /
dyed in border colours? /
did it reshape the torso /
secured by the vatican /
but allowed to slip away daily /
did it erase the fingerprints /
of a child so none would /
ever recognize them amongst /
their own igniting on an /
embered foot path ahead into the waiting years