looping

some thing burn ing in
counts the sounds it makes
smells like plas tic waste
loops on back again
stitch a line in sand
stilt the words they chase
pul sing down our hands
hide from all our friends
bite down on our hate
loops on back a gain
is a flame we hold
crack les so soft ly
keeps the ashes safe
lines traced in our hand
sand etched on her face
as the rain slides by
loops on back again