Alone before the plasma screen

He handed her a feather
a tall black feather
pulled from his tail, said
take this
home with you.

Was that all
he could spare? One feather?
His tail and wings were ragged. Maybe
he wandered around leaving a trail of feathers
in this place and that place,
the flicky ash of his
personality, his
potential.

Some kind of energy seemed stored
in the feather. How to
release it? Flutter? Tickle?
Giggle? Stare, wave? No-no-no.
Burn! Burn!

Alone before the plasma screen
she lit a small black candle,
held its destructing waxgas to the feather’s
tatty frond.

She closed her eyes,
savoured his acrid organic smoke,
received the small strokes of his heat,

curled shut around the burn
as a trail of flame fused the synthetic plush
of her family-room floor
and slowly consumed her just-constructed,
abstract-geometric, bravebright
blockout drapes.

(First published in Creatrix)

What do you think?