Wick

to claim the morning star
to expire in the splendour of the fire

By D.S. Martin

The night is dark & cold   Hope
is the spark that’s caught hold of me

for I am the wick within the lantern
of the body   & I yearn to burn with light

My thirst is first to fill with oil
but then to ignite   to illuminate

white lace & polished things   to fling
bright gold about the room

to participate in the glory   & to spill
out into the night   I desire

to claim the morning star
to expire in the splendour of the fire

to be consumed
& be one with the flame