The perfect match

[Philatone]

V. 2

The perfect match

keeps to a book
as her sisters, one by one,
leave the house,

a scent of ash,
pulses of shadows
unraveled on the roof.

The red-head sleeps
until a cough of thunder,
a search for candles

and a storm, who paints
the porch and steps
into the living room

to invite her out
to dance, hesitant
to blow a single

kiss.






V. 1

is best kept in a drawer, away
from any candle or temptation
to ignite. There is always
another wick of wood to strike
in books fueled by the thought of fire.

Better save the red-head. Wait
for the storm, who hangs his coat
on the porch, to call the guest
with the burning taste for darkness.