Poetry from Natasha Leung

Versions of Heat



with the drip of wax 

down a scar on my hand

to replicate a lost spark

i wonder at a candle unaware of an ending

of burning out an only tasting metal

i wonder at a candle

when will it be spring again?

summer may be long and dreary

warmth that suffocates a breath of air

but not the burn

of when your skin has tanned too much and pinches a fiery red

that shouldn’t be possible without wind

until too much blows it out

blows out the red of leaves

the gold (of winning, of shining, and of burning)

into brown

metal can taste different no matter what

but the color will always be dark

opposite of burning

2 thoughts on “Poetry from Natasha Leung

  1. Pingback: Synchronized Chaos Mid-December Issue: Back and Forth on the River Styx | SYNCHRONIZED CHAOS

  2. Natasha, “Versions of Heat” has many arresting images. In the beginning, wax drips “replicate a lost spark.” Makes sense. Even without flame, hot wax will raise a raw, red burn. But even more interesting is the “wonder at a candle unaware of an ending.” A candle will burn so long as there is wick to hold the flame– but the wick is finite. We, too, cycle through the seasons– “warmth that suffocates,” and then wind that blows the changing leaves, blows “the gold (of winning, of shining, and of burning)/ into brown.” The ending, a color “opposite of burning,” sidesteps the age-old question, “What’s it all about?” Leaves the reader to infer what is “opposite of burning.”

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