The body burns from the wick-head down, melts the image of world until sight of self is gone. Lips that begged for food and love drip silent from the jawbone. Exposed backbone reveals the burden's curve, to whom it bent, and why. Heart and lungs sizzle in the ribcage, like barbecue dripping juice, sweet, sour, or milky and bland. The stomach fat inches down, an old river of eating and anxious hours.
Shinbones dance out the last steps of unfulfilled dreams in flame.
Blackened and weightless the curled soles flutter on stone, exhausted, senseless to beat or tune. It is good fire that consumes the skin, avenges the bones, throwing the body cloud aloft like a tenant without a home.