The wind peels the siding off the house in sheets and bits
As easily as tearing newspapers for papier-mache.
The flame dances and spirits in and out of existence over orange-hot
Coals that fuel every gyration.
A white phosphorus blast of light from each flash
Suspends time in a frame.
Music muted near silence, shimmering of passion,
Cuts a cold steel knife into the soul.
The dying leaf explodes with color
As if someone breathed fire into its veins.
Pinpoint of desire drills into the center of the body and
Ripples out waves of demented emotion.