Morning air caresses her skin,
Brushes the shoulders,
Tugs the curls.
Breezy twin kisses become flint stones
That slide and strike, slowly at first.
Quicker, harsher now
To build the barrier she never had before
But that grew—step by step,
Flicker by flicker—until she couldn’t see herself
A heartbeat there, a gasp here.
Bodily functions blending together
To breath fire into life.
His hands forming a necklace,
An ornament that only succeeds in cutting
Tighten the muscles so you
Fuel the pain so it
Torture the body so the heart
Her fire is catching.
It might raze the house,
But the charred remains
Will be pure.
If it doesn’t all burn.
Jessica Walker is a writer who uses literary and genre fiction to make sense of the world. She has been published in Eye Contact and Rune. Her best work happens when she has a cup of coffee in hand.