this light that looks like
lightning
outside is inside
sputtering dance
of tattered flame
in a draft between
doors
knot of wick
softening wall
of wax

it's not that
"I don't understand
why you had to be taken
from us"
but any act
of "understanding"
turns back
halted at reflecting
glass
to my need
for meaning in this
life

clouds in a window
scud by
seemingly
flashing dark and
bright
guttering sky my brief
vision
of the worlds
that with you go
out

the light
drowned in its own
fuel
a little smoke
this glaucous
spill of cooling wax
wisps
of almost opaque
air
blown past