Erupt

There is a stone in my chest again
and this time it burns
red magma
behind my ribcage.

Grief I know as a sinking
of stone
to silty marsh bottom
in my gut

But
this is not grief.
This glows.

It is my love for women
and love I have accepted from men.
It is fury and pain.
It is hope and vision.
It is fed by tenderness.
It is power.

Today I burn.
Soon I will erupt
to sear away the settlements
laying claim to my body
to encase their subsumed wreckage
in fresh rock
and fertile possibility.

There is a stone in my chest.
It burns.Sketchbook. Souvenir of Naples, Unknown Artist, 19th cent..JPG

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