The Floor is Lava

Photo by Kristopher Roller on Unsplash

Dear Ones, I have been thinking abut poems as letters, poems as translated conversations. And so today’s breath emerged.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedYou live inside a game of "the floor is lava."As soon as you are settled,softly landed,slotted in with expert precision -- the burning starts.It feels just warm at first, pleasant,like the one side of you facing a late summer bonfire.Then it shifts to something more like firewith the blistering and curling of your skinhappening on the inside.You can sit in fire -- for a moment -- until the first red blisters form in places only you know how to see.That is the signal. Crouch and leap.Try to carry everything across.(Something always falls away, the memory of it shrivels black)Breathe awhile in your landing spot waiting for the next inevitable fire.

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