You told me once on a bed of dry embers
That I alone felt love from
the caress of burnt fingertips
Crumbling to powder after years
Infectious to unstable tears
Itchy as they scratch my back
Exploited by the spells of quacks
You cannot burn me, Ohenka —
No new scars can hurt this body
No new sparks can burn the flaming wick.
A fiery beauty of a poem!