Sundial

His eyes burn first,
the sinner who incinerates himself,
and blackened corneas blind him to
the brevity of the flame.
It is a spontaneous combustion of sorts;
the brittle brush a little too dry,
the coals too covert to quench.
Next the hands are eaten by orange,
and then the body, and then
the heart, a festering flame like
a sleeping star, or a campfire,
a cannibal campfire. It casts
dancing shadows, the kind that seem
larger than they are...and all at once,
he sees through scintillating eyes:
they are not the silhouettes of a
monster, but merely - a sundial -
orienting him away from history.

-4/6/10