The Blacksmith

Soon enough, 

once I let myself fall away,

borders will, too,

and everything I love 

becomes me

and everything that’s me

becomes what I love.

And what I hate,

what crawls on my skin, 

and cuts my blood,

I will find

is love who wandered

so far away

it had to pull my abdomen

and set me on fire

to collect my senses

to see I am not the visitor

I am the blacksmith’s fire,

what moves through me

as a cold prod

can be returned

melted and warm

ready to take shape

of whatever it touches next.