Where Fire Does Not Exist. Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is fire within me
which is well
contained, though every night
it wants to burn me

or eat me, but which i have
domesticated for years in such a
way that with one word i utter
it stays on its place, sits like
a dog, and dances when told.

if i did not have that skill
i would have been burned a long time ago.
i would have turned into ashes.
and the fire would have devoured
you too, one who thinks that i am
the happiest man in the house
where fire does not exist.