flint

anger explodes unexpectedly,
with ejaculated force
with similar stimuli

her fires of passion banked,
fury feeds steadily
on everything he should have said
and did not say:
the 'hows' stuff pillows,
questions roil sheets,
and now Milo the bear
makes the sleeper warm

she realizes, like cold water
hissing over half-charred logs,
that endings happen,
that they need no explanations
to be final,
unless someone comes along
with a match
and some gasoline,
to light a new fire