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The Arsonist MAG
November 25, 2012
Antarctica lies in
Not the southernmost part
On earth but in
Me, a place where blood once
Had been pumped in
And out as if an instrument
Drummed itself in
A rhythmic beat endlessly.
It had once been set
On fire by your innocent smile
When we first met.
The sky – it was a clear blue –
I'll never forget.
Such a daring attempt it was
To have me let
Fire burn on ice, knowing it'd fail.
© Britney G., Green Bay, WI
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