"Compassionate Pele" by Francene Hart

I wish I could sing a fire
so hot a blue
halo would round my head.

All the men of fire would come
in screaming red engines
to hose me down
and simmer in my steam.

My tongue would glow red
and braise you to me
from anywhere on the planet.

The echoes of my songs
would create simoon and scirocco.
Rain hot dust over two continents.

Perhaps you'd mistake
me for a solar flare or volcano.
Maybe even a woman.

And you.
You would finally know
what I've been hiding under my
basket all these years.

Bio: Wilma Weant Dague lives in Kansas with her husband and three children. Her poems have appeared in *Poetry Magazine* and *Snakeskin*. She is currently working on a novel tentatively titled, "Snapshots of a Moody Girl."

Contact Wilma at wilmad@mail.benedictine.edu