Put your fire to my forest
and pour on oil.

Your gasoline to the struck tip
of the waiting match

and I will stop whatever I’m doing
because in a minute you and I will burn down the world. 

Set fire to the pipeline!
See the winter melt in less than sixty seconds,

all the wells of the glittering earth ignited
from underground at once in a thousand sites

and in a thousand cities the beacon fires on the fortified walls
say, We’ve won!

The gates won’t wait for dawn!
They open now!

The tips of your fingers taste like oxygen
and when the torch of my tongue meets you

it’s time to drop everything
and sit down quietly

and call the handyman
because

we’re not worried anymore
about the bills, the yard, the work, the mess—

we’re facing what’s more pressing…
we’ve blown the doors off the house.