Love Flambé

I took two years to leave him and eight months
to set fire to his painting
in a bathtub in Chicago.

It was of a phoenix rising,
an emblem of me, budding from his strength —
This is you, baby.

My bathtub bonfire disciplined itself against white porcelain,
like the way his hand met my cheekbone —
No one will love you like I do.

I turned on the shower.
I think I've got it from here.

Elizabeth Knaster
Seattle