And you. When you saunter in, glowing
like a tomboy, blue as a blowtorch and blazing.
Made of glass you would shatter, but born of fire you
can burn, like some fierce feathered creature gently
pouring some wine. Standing this close I can feel
all your doubts. Am with you, through them. Let my loose
thumb snag on the loop at your hips, as you scorch
my throat with your hesitant nose. Let us pause,
to breathe in our breaths then… let bright covers
blow open, and spill the hot weight of your chest—
let your cage cave in to the fire, your lips
open up to your core; and I will soothe you, all
the way down to your black, curly ashes—hold
your bold, bright egg in my fingers as it hatches.
Chris Lynch grew up in Papua New Guinea and is now based in Melbourne. His poetry has appeared in Cordite, Tincture Journal, Apex Magazine, Blackmail Press, Islet, Peril Magazine, SpeedPoets, Stars Like Sand: Australian speculative poetry, and the Poetry & Place Anthology 2015, among others. Currently working on his first collection of poetry, he blogs occasionally at www.chrislynch.com.au.