More from the hoard. This was also published in my college literary magazine Inscribed in 2000, and written my junior year. I’m not editing before I post, even if I’d do things differently now. In fact, that is likely to be an upcoming project. See the poems here first, in their original glory.
Exploring A Metaphor
He's a candle-- throwing shadows
On the wall I can hide in,
And I want to kiss him--
Taste the flame,
But I'm afraid of burning.
I can run my fingers through the fire
If I'm nimble, quick-
Or I can move in close
Until I'm warm again--
But I don't want to smother him
Or breathe in too much smoke.
If I say anything, my words
Might be wind enough that he'll sputter out
And I'll be left with wax
Burning my fingers for a moment only
Before cooling into indifference.
As of now, I'm too afraid
To warm my fingers, or my lips
And be tinder to his spark--
Instead I'll wait in his uncertain light
Mask myself in those flickering shadows
And hope that I'll find my courage
Before the wick burns down
And I get colder.
Me, 2000
Heather Senz 