Beauty Rises From Flame
As if—a flame erupted into light—
a quick flash—white, harsh, then blue, then vanished
into a red morning. But sleeping night
remembers everything—each over-bright
moment that left darkness broken, tarnished.
But night never breaks. She is pure beauty
refusing to face. There’s smoke you don’t see
and heart of flame, sleeping under cool sheets—
disguised by pain. Morning wakes city streets,
cars, work. Life expands—continues without
noticing what night believes, doesn’t doubt.
Blue/white rises off her long back to bruise
darkness again, welcome as a kiss. Views
open—stark against silky night. Old smoke
is new flame—breath’s desire for surprise spoke
to time. Beauty of swift flame—then her heart dreams
faster. Her tune’s hers to call. She reflects
nothing. She’s firm. Sleek. Dangerous. Handsome.
Mark J. Mitchell was born in Chicago and grew up in southern California. His latest poetry collection, Starting from Tu Fu was just published by Encircle Publications. A new collection is due out in December from Cherry Grove. He lives in San Francisco with his wife, the activist and documentarian, Joan Juster. A meager online presence can be found at Mark J. Mitchell, Writer