Peace

frigid submarines slice the sea,

slit peace open like a package

but there is nothing inside

but a long wait for the tide to come in

Sweet Fire

Sweet fire chills in my bedroom

cool and

collecting dust.

The jealous window watches me,

tantalized by the molten heat.

Glass in love with fire,

melting in shame and desire.

It happens every day.

I stoke the fire.

Between panes the glass drools.