secrets

this tickle in my throat

flitting, glittering spark

my insides are dry leaves and matchsticks

rustling as I shake hands and return smiles

you'd never guess my dearth of muscle or meat

until I cough up the flame I've been swallowing

and flash paper skin

reveals my intestines of kindling

leaving me a smoldering tangle of expired foliage

extinguished by the bitter autumn weather

Reviews

[FJ Davis]

Incredible imagery, Ben!
Hope the keeping of secrets--or your desiccated innards interpretation, itself----is not causing you undue distress.
Maybe you're just looking forward to autumn--though, modifying the word with "bitter'' does not make it seem so.
An intriguing, extremely well-written bit of work, Mr. Taylor!