The Fire Poem Poem by David Michael Jackson

The fire is not out.
It burns like fire, like pain, like, you know, pain.
Water waiter, water for my fire, water, sweet clear cool water.
Words won't do. Words or work won't do.
The sword sinks deep, yes, deeply into the underbelly, into the abyss
And the words find no favor.
Eat the peach, man, eat the peach, yes, dare, next time, next time, next time
Is there time left?
Time between growing up and growing old
time between the river and the sea
Eat the peach, man.
Eat the peach.
It is good.
It is sweet.