Wax drips down the candles
like a water on a window.
Like humans, the flame is purpose and death
caught in molten limbo.
Because the fire and the brain
are not so very different
it consumes the soul and body
leaving nothing to be held, reverent.
Like the candle, every drop of wax
drains from the top to change the body.
Some light up for warmth, others for prayer.
So, lay me out with poppies
on my chest chest and
burn me up to my rest