Poem 20150708

if you put me in a crucible
and turned the furnace up to high

(i’m sure forges have settings like
my kitchen stove)

i would catch on fire, melt,
turn into a real mess,

but would i liquefy as my water
boiled away and my elements

freed from their captivity in my organs
would they puddle deep in the bell

their components seeking like to like
what gold and what iron

would be separate from the dross
and would the pearl of my soul

shine like an unbreakable diamond
among the slurry