Faced with furnace demands during its education,
the strictest spirit must take them all; it needs
to break down shame, but gasping into a pillow
later to nobody anywhere, claims I Love You.
                It plays long tricks
upon itself—the stealthy girl locks doors,
the woman listens in single high rooms for music,
hears climbing elevators as the picket walks
in a dead street before tallest skyscrapers
                far on the sidewalks;
all horrors enter all beds to purify
the critical spirit in a city of change,
twisted in flames, blazing among the secrets,
breaking the taut life with their harsh I Have You.
                It burns and never speaks
only is educated, when it assumes bright horror,
nourished against the time it hears its name—
until it is called will stand, witness to fire,
training a flame upward along its vine.