Matches by Charles Simić

Matches

Very dark when I step

On the street

But then he shows up

The one who plays with matches

In my dreams

I have never seen

his face his eyes

Why do I always

Have to be so slow

And the matches already

Down to his fingertips

If it’s a house

Time only for a glimpse

If a woman—

Just a single kiss

Before the shadows converge

I could be dining

Making a snowball

Having my teeth pulled

By the Pope in Rome

Or running naked

Over a battlefield

The one with matches

Knows and won’t say

He likes only abandoned games

Illegible cities

Great loves that go out

in a puff