Races

 
Remember the lonely towns scattered through the highlands?
You fell in love, even with the architecture.
I'd known for many years
of the flames from death's unshifting skin
in the brick and spires.
Every wish, dream and awestruck moment
was stoking that mortar.

Now we are somewhere across the easy ocean.
Somewhere neither of us can pin on any map.

The thought of my ignited bones frightens you.
It dements you into a smoking frenzy where you smoke more,
faster, 'til you are a haze of wreathing greys.
I'm sure through the thicker, knotting clouds
I can see your pale, ashen skull.
Are you racing for the finish line?
Scared to be stranded on your home slabs
that give nothing, but sure footing,
and take everything.
Or do you fear your secrets from me
will become useless knowledge?
The wiliest of foxes who can't be seen anymore
and your whine passes your teeth with teeth of its own.

You are right.
I should die alone. I'd rather that
than have you lying, badly concealing tears
and shouldering my ghost,
'til you, finally, become me.