Mitchell Irby
Thrown into the world,
woman aside, no companion around.
But spark a spark, how Hope she glows!
Bright enticement and comfort;
a friend against the cold,
an ally against the night,
a god for his kind.
By night, they embrace with shared lovers’ gaze.
By day, they reign;
for consumption, for combustion, for more,
maturing only to each other,
their only child–War.
Fire– his bride, til death, will he depart.
Fire– the vixen, comfort, and provider
Fire– the whore, then drug, then mother
Man– the lover, turned handler, then slave
Saved, says he, from the filth of his birth.