You are to me what flannel was to the 1990's

You were Joan of Arc!  

new & strange & different in every way,  
in that photo of the century stare.  
 
my heart failed to duck  
a red stitched curve ball to the ribs.  
 
you were death, and sex, and reanimation  
digging through all the dirt again.  
 
an unsettling bruise  
I wore with admiration
that I would never wish away.  
 
prominent cheek bones;  
warm ambient light,  
the kind that falls on orange and yellow autumn tree lines  
then burns it all down in a blink.  
 
you're the forrest fire that consumed  
not so innocent woodland creatures.  
 
I fawn in a frequence that's not stable in the mind.