stokers

I tried to swim too soon.
The blaze raged at the near shore and pulled my breath,
and I choked
as I came up for air.
With eyes married to the flow, the spark had gone unnoticed.
I’d laughed as I stepped to the flame, discounted the danger,
Tested the heat and turned
to assure the water, “I don’t need this.”

I was wrong.

I drop into the fire.
I need to burn a while longer.
I need to scream and see these blisters.
The river is within a coal’s throw.
I remember its comfort, remember its motion. It draws heat from my skin.
But present in this pit or not,
I know my breath will burn.

The two implore me
to dive for the stream as they slave at their bellows.
We all swam there, not long ago.
Welcoming withered flame or stronger lung, I may step in again.
But today I am given to sear.