- In a House on Fire—
Even a child will hush herself As she pleases— Thumb in mouth, two fingers in the secret place. No time to explain, the gift is dead on arrival. Her strongest desire petals itself in the cellar. Lungs lust, asphyxia, pleasure; Hot! Scratching for an exit— At what degree Fahrenheit, (will she forget?) To bubble, or glow, blood-orange, ringed in charcoal; Like a Georgia O’Keefe never answering the question, Am I a flower or a flame? [End Page 364]
Andrea Walls, a Philadelphia native, is the author of Ultraviolet Catastrophe, a chapbook from the grassroots, Thread Makes Blanket Press. She is a VONA and Hedgebrook alum and has been published in H.O.W. Journal, Kweli Journal, and was first runner-up in Solstice Literary Magazine’s First Annual Contest. She has recently finished her first full collection of poetry, The Black Body Curve. She currently lives and writes in Camden, New Jersey.