not squelched by faith
this darkling flame
and glistening floss
where amber marries red
as smudge and char
their ort children rise
upward through the flue
to mask the moon
the scent of space
that like and likening
of gray body ascension
which bears all soot to wind
as piceous carbon undulates
like dense black lace buoyant
above the chinks in windows
where vital breath transpires
lucy meskill
