four stubborn campfires struggle in your lungs,
your veins are branches, you see?
have you ever started a fire you couldn't put out?
ever had to dig so deep?
your lover's prayers have left puddles and some
stumbled through with bare feet
and maps stretched across far-fetched footsteps,
to pick them up and drop them on me.
from here the sun plays the role of hardly a friend
but not so much a mother
as a sister, or a brother, hiding thoughtlessly
but since she's here for now, stick your tongue out,
take in as much as you can
swallow as often as possible
because your campfires are spreading.