The Salamander Heart
salamander heart,
cold and untouched
amidst these sacred fires - Bulfinch’s Mythology
I watched the carnage with a million
other lookie-loos curious to see
the jihadists cloaked in reptilian
splendor. And I heard the desperate plea
of the bard, an orison to a god
no more genuine than the virgin birth
or St. Nick. I didn’t cry as he clawed
off his flesh and collapsed into the earth
with a sigh of relief. It was their eyes,
the unified look of satisfaction
that stayed with me. Listen! We’d be unwise
to count this as a minor infraction
on the world stage. For now, nurse your ire.
In the end we may survive the fire.
Khem
I watched Khem light the fire.
The first spark leapt from his eyes
& onto the woodpile,
which kindled into being.
Soon, the flames ascended
into the indigo sky
as he fed one item
after another into the blaze;
the handmade cradle,
her wedding dress, their photo
albums, the Ikea furniture,
& then, his beloved
volumes of Shakespeare;
through his fingers clutched
at the collection of sonnets
a nano-second longer
than the previous tomes.
Lastly, he pulled off
his wedding ring,
held it up to the light,
the gold band glinting
a final, agonized plea
before my amazed eyes.
He cast the ring into the fire,
turned to me, smiled,
& whispered, Ut supra, ut infra,
as he became one with the dark.
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