The heart of the flame burns

Paunch like a tangerine

Thin smokestack shrouded by dawn.

The secret is in the symmetry

Of the curve, a returning grace

Pale marble basilica clerestory.

My mother kindles prayers

For a living, revelations following

A faithful afterword. Tells me

To admit the light

Like licking the wound

Like salting a seaside heart.

Fire burning the soul

Absolute, encircling, howling

Like a dog in the night—

Ripe picking,

Her celestial sweet.