Slow Burn

Carving a name in a bar of soap I look to the sky with a deathless hope I hang on a hook just in back of my eyes I drip on the floor as I shrivel in size I am the girl in the brown paper slacks Librarian tucked away deep in the stacks Doomed and determined, I wait in my wings I shout to the sky when the telephone rings Slow burn Slow burn Slow burn Fire and brimstone are all that I know Angels are shapes that we made in the snow Giant white clouds and harps and white garments These are a part of a separate department I am the girl in the burning red sweater Who goes to the doctor but doesn't feel better Tied up and squirming, shouting the name Working a job, smoldering and so tame Slow burn Slow burn Slow burn