by Jonathan May
You come to me in a touch of light
and ask to burn me, you ask to burn me
and I know I should want the corridor
opened within my heart, I should want
the loveliness of salvation, its cheek
to rub against, its broad thighs. You
choose to not relent, and all within
the look of my family’s eyes, I see you
bright unfolding, the lit pathways
to something like a perfect reason,
like tearing a storm apart from top
to bottom. The thought of it puzzles
this mind. I long for the skinlessness
your burning begs, I long to lie down
and be raked of myself, and not die.
(Originally appeared in print: Rock & Sling, 6.2)