In The Fireworks Business Of Words Poem by Lillian Susan Thomas

I am in the fireworks business of words,
For the delight it brings.
A good poem like a Roman Candle
Flings sparks in a crackling shower of colors,
Spins, blooms in snappy sounds,
Cascades its fine metallic shavings above us in the dark.
A certain amount of chaos in the eruption.
Almost dangerous with its live cinders.
Caught in an eye could burn the cornea,
Leaving the lens with a small black pit
Through which light is distorted.
I ignite the fuse,
Watch the rocket arch into the night,
And wait for the explosion of senses.