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Fire! Fire!
Pinked by what lightning, Or by what lens of a dead eye Kindled immemorially, So that out of death-crisped leaves The vivid snake of fire Rode the high trees; Or from what clip of flints Sprang the red seeds; Or by what drop of volcanic spittle It sprayed- There is within all memory A pageant of fire. Watch it- Cocoons of houses break; Out of the torn walls it mounts, Glorious and Doomed. It is ecstasy- Rosy phallus Lambent with exhalations. Fields of war were like this, And empires fell in fétes of destruction. If the streets swarm We know what show has caught the crowds, The high-stepping, raw-legged Nymphs of fire perform. The firemen come to arrest The nude dancers. Or like women in labor They have shown themselves- Uttering the same cries, Lifting white bellies suddenly with blue veins, Tossing their breasts with the red nipples, Rearing peaks of desperate knees And gruesome arms.