it was just a dream, the tower built from the thick smoke of offerings.
because there was nothing to offer and nothing to burn.
the cavern roof rose clean as it had ever been.
now i offer my fear to you o god.
i put it on the altar of this frame of me,
the flesh and bony bits and the neural semaphore.
the flag of flame unrolls--i will live in smoke
but no matter.
to you vanesa who asked nothing
i leave the act of burning.