reviviscence
I think you were surprised
or, at the very least,
looked up from the television,
when I rose up
out of my own ashes
like a phoenix without feathers
and that freckle you used to like to kiss.
Were you bewildered at my regeneration?
Did you think you'd rendered me
effectively finished,
available only in syndication?
A transgression from which you
nevertheless recovered,
after three and a half tears
"Oh, woe is--hey, is that NASCAR?"
Would you like to touch me again?
I can tell you're trying to keep me
at arm's length, which is wise,
considering I'm still smoldering-new
and you have all that combustible insecurity
and no capacity for crying down the flames.
I'd still like to make you try.
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written works © April Palleria, 2002