Matches and Scissors, a Girl

A poem about a girl

She lights matches

and saunters around the room

with the smell of wood smoke

and oh, god she’d give anything for a cigarette right now

 

She cuts her own hair

out of stress

for fun

it’s four inches shorter

Because she can’t live another way

 

She lives the night with fire and sadness

and feels and swims her stories

and when she speaks

she leaves me feeling

 

Like a candle underwater!

     Drowning

           In her mind

                And her Everything

 

Like a candle underwater

Or a shirt without buttons

Or a broken clock

She leaves me

Breathless

And weak

And out of time

With the panorama of her eyes

and the curve of her body.

 

And I

Am still reveling

at her art

 

The matches are struck

Her hair is shorter

... and I'm out of time