Inner Circle
By Kathy Fagan
After Brenda Hillman
The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorus—
—Emily Dickinson
The circle she suggested
I draw in my head is more
scorched than drawn.
The way the cherries
of our Marlboros burnt red-
brown peepholes through
our loose-leaf. The way
my dry vagina sparks now
when penetrated, or my
mouth when ringed
with the wrong lip-
stick. The wagons in old
westerns get torched because
settlers commit atrocities
forever after and before,
perfect circle of human
invention. Crown, wheel,
brand, bullet. Draw
a circle with a flame.
Eyes closed. From inside.
It’s dark in there and you
need the light. You need
to burn all the way through.
