Fire Eater
Karen Sadler
I spend winters gulping candlelight,
let the flames singe my tongue,
wicks hissing in distress.
My throat, coated in wax,
and my lips ringed with ash,
keep the frigid air out.
They give my blood a fighting chance.
But this warmth is fleeting
so I spend nights awake,
ears pricked to the scream
of sirens and I run, then,
starved and panting
through ice-packed streets,
catch the smoke in my nose
and lunge.
I crouch at the base of
burning houses,
the blazing wood a feast.
Let me lick the smoking
bannister, let me drink
the melting hinge.
I would swallow the stars
if I could, in winter.
I would eat the sun,
then beg for more.