Stars are melting to liquid fire,
pooling in the crevices of my wrinkles,
swelling before my eyes as I try to grasp,
what is no longer solid or still,
as it slides through the canyons,
that were once my dimples.
Drinking in the liquid fire,
it burns the rivers and mountains
that line my throat
following the curves and oiling the box
of sound where my voice lives.
Color returns as breath flutters,
misting over the molten stars as they seep
clearing away the rust, the decay.
Through the gears and cogs, it lingers short,
flying with wings of silver spray
spattering the cage of bone,
dipping through my veins
the caverns of my heart throb
touched with melted stars
wreathing around core and soul
the heat of a million suns
no longer enough to ignite
the shattered coals.