Myth of Ignition
by Sydney Virginia
She closes her eyes & quiets her mind
& prays to God that this time she feels
some sort of something. A floating pressure,
to spark the dark coals, to awaken
the sleeping lions. It’s been a long time
since she’s tasted blood, she’s afraid
it was all a dream. She’s afraid
she’s chasing a myth, a grand beast that lurks
in cloudy waters in faraway lands,
spotted only in glimpses, out of the corner
of some fisherman’s eye. She was so sure
she had it, but it’s been so long
the dust has settled on the shelves
of her skull & dimmed her memory.
She’s learned that your mind can play tricks.
As soon as you feel a tap on your shoulder,
you turn and there’s nothing. Nothing
but a draft on her neck, a grunt in her ear,
the steady pulse of movement. Nothing
but the hope of ignition,
a hunger that growls low in the dark.
She closes her eyes & quiets her mind
& prays to God that this time she feels
some sort of something. A floating pressure,
to spark the dark coals, to awaken
the sleeping lions. It’s been a long time
since she’s tasted blood, she’s afraid
it was all a dream. She’s afraid
she’s chasing a myth, a grand beast that lurks
in cloudy waters in faraway lands,
spotted only in glimpses, out of the corner
of some fisherman’s eye. She was so sure
she had it, but it’s been so long
the dust has settled on the shelves
of her skull & dimmed her memory.
She’s learned that your mind can play tricks.
As soon as you feel a tap on your shoulder,
you turn and there’s nothing. Nothing
but a draft on her neck, a grunt in her ear,
the steady pulse of movement. Nothing
but the hope of ignition,
a hunger that growls low in the dark.