She walks in a hallway of cedar wood curling in tiny strings,
Bursting into glow, then flame at her presence.
Burning darkness into wood through persimmon light,
Blinding flash blocked by smoke, and what gets through starts fires.
Your skin heats and swells as you know her,
Heart throbbing in the surface of your cheeks when you close,
Slow plastic drips from her fingernails shower down,
Smoking tangerine runway lights on the side of her path.
Her lips twist and bare teeth when you ring out,
Trading electrical heat for a rest on one side,
She can light you, consume you, you'll thank her.
Ana to be prayed for, puja to complete.