controlled burn

promise of a controlled burn
paper tight twisted,
trenches dug

with underbrush trimmed
you keep your cool.

splintered vines wind between
and the peel of birch bark reminds
us of our way as we hide
among the ghosts of the forest,
eating haiku sandwiches


I like lovers light brown crisp
caramelized on the end of a stick
inside liquid melts
knowing when to pull back
before sugar fires carbon
black, bitter, useless

and you like it raw
dipped in warm
or pulled to taffy
between fingers
onto tongue

always, always with the promise
of a controlled burn